Look Me In The Stars
by in fantasy
Summary: AU post-OotP. The war is over. Almost two years after his death Sirius shows up on Harry's doorstep, very much alive, and chaos ensues. Includes slash of the RLSB variety and a good bit of well-intended (aren't they all?) meddling by Harry, Ron and Hermione.
1. The Return

**Look Me In The Stars**

**Disclaimer: **Not mine. If it were, a few certain people would definitely still be alive.

**Story Summary: **AU from the fifth novel onwards, Sirius returns from the Veil almost two years after his death to a very different world. The war is over but peace is far from achieved. Remus and Tonks have married and Teddy Lupin is now six months old, but their marriage is crumbling under the weight of the war's after effects. Sirius's return brings back old memories and forgotten feelings, and promises to alter Remus's life once more.

**Warning: **This story is SLASH and will contain, at some point, explicit slash scenes. If this offends you then that's a pity, please kindly leave.

**A/N: **The thing is, I'm on holiday. I have ample amounts of spare time, and this is the result. This story has been nagging at me for weeks now, so I finally put pen to paper. This will probably be terrifyingly long (to me), and I do have a sketchy plan as to how to proceed... but can I have some feedback as to whether or not people are interested in this story, so I know whether it's a good idea to continue or not? Reviews really are encouraging and do help immensely.

Also, kudos to anyone who immediately spotted the title's reference to Robert Frost! He is one of my favorite poets.

* * *

_A voice said, Look me in the stars_  
_And tell me truly, men of earth,_  
_If all the soul-and-body scars_  
_Were not too much to pay for birth._

- Robert Frost, "A Question"

* * *

"I'm _late_!"

The source of the frustrated announcement came from somewhere beneath a pile of multicolored baby clothes and play toys. In the background, the demanding wail of a baby was quickly reaching a crescendo. A furry pale blue teddy bear came flying through the air and almost hit Remus Lupin in the face as he peered into the room. Ducking instinctively, he reached down to pick up the unfortunate stuffed animal, which only had one eye. He wondered where the other one had gone.

"Dora?" He leaned against the doorframe. "Did you… lose something?"

From beneath the pile, Tonks's head – today crowned in a sweeping updo with pink streaks – made an appearance. "Have you seen Teddy's toy broomstick?"

He wracked his brain. "Which toy broomstick is that again?"

"The one Harry gave him! The mini Firebolt X—a_ha_!" This final exclamation was accompanied by a triumphant dive back into the pile. A moment later Tonks emerged, hair coming apart from its bun, wielding a struggling miniature model broomstick in her hands. She clambered out of the pile and leaned against the door opposite Remus to catch her breath. "You should really tell Harry to stop charming his collection of broomstick models to give to Teddy," she said, raising one hand to her hair. The updo immediately righted itself.

Remus didn't reply. It wasn't explicit, but the undertone of blame was there: subtle but ever-present, nagging at him day and night. Recently, it seemed to have grown stronger. He had yet to acknowledge it out loud, but he knew the moment he did, the row would start – and this time, it might end for good.

Tonks straightened up abruptly, one hand clenched around the tiny broomstick in a tight fist. "I have a meeting to go to," she said. "Give this to Teddy, all right? It'll keep him quiet."

He accepted the broomstick, their fingers brushing at the transaction. A year ago, the simple touch would have made heat flare inside him. Now, they barely touched each other at all.

How things could change in a year.

"Have a good—" He started to say, before realizing he was talking to an empty room. Tonks had already left.

Slowly, he pushed himself off the doorframe. Not for the first time, he felt older than his age. He had just turned 38 last March, but felt at least 50. His joints and muscles felt weary and overworked – the last few full moons had been harder than usual. Tired lines now mingled with the scars on his face. Grey was flecked throughout his sandy brown hair, which now hung just above his eyes. He reminded himself that he needed a haircut.

He wondered how he had come to feel so trapped in domestic life. The war was over, Voldemort defeated, Harry had lived, and most remarkably, so had he. If he was completely truthful with himself he had never expected to live through the second war. But he was alive, and he had a loving wife, a beautiful child – it was everything he'd always wanted, wasn't it?

Somewhere in the deep recesses of his brain that contained memories he had long ago locked and barricaded away, something stirred – a memory, an emotion. An image of a tall, lean man with long black hair and a crooked smile—

_No. _ He shook his head to clear his mind, then opened the door to his son's room with more force than necessary.

Andromeda Tonks was sitting in a rocking chair, holding six-month-old baby Teddy Lupin in her arms, softly singing a lullaby. The cries had subsided slightly, but Remus sensed that this was just a momentary break, a pause for breath.

Andromeda looked up as Remus entered. "Do you have it?" she mouthed.

Remus held up his left fist, wrapped around the buzzing broomstick, in confirmation. Looking immensely relieved, Andromeda turned back to her grandson, a smile brightening her face. "Look, Teddy! Daddy's here – look what he has for you!"

Kneeling in front of his son, Remus hid his hands behind his back. Then with a teasing grin, he slowly withdrew his left hand and turned his palm up.

The broomstick immediately rocketed away from his hand and zoomed towards the ceiling before completing a full three-sixty and turning back around to start doing roundabouts around Teddy's head. Remus's son squealed and clapped his hands, eyes wide with delight, hair turning bright yellow.

There was no better sight in the world than seeing his baby son happy. Remus laughed, eyes moving between the pesky broomstick and his child. His face looked immediately ten years younger than it did five minutes ago. He knew that no matter what, he would do everything he could to keep his family together, if only for Teddy's sake.

###

Harry Potter was sitting at the kitchen table of 12 Grimmauld Place, leaning on the two back legs of his chair and impatiently drumming the cards in his hand while trying to ignore the increasingly shrill tones of Hermione's voice. On the table was a stack of board games which had been temporarily sidelined in favor of the packet of colorful cards being tossed on the table. They were playing Uno.

"Oh for God's sake, for the _last_ time, Ron, the Draw-2 card means _you_ take two cards, not put another two cards _down_. Could you even pretend to pay the tiniest bit of attention to me next time when I'm explaining the rules?"

"This game doesn't make sense!" Still freckly, red-headed and stubborn as a hippogriff, Ron Weasley hadn't changed much from the war. Harry watched as his two best friends snapped at each other across the table. He knew that in five minutes they would be climbing on each other's lap and clothes would be flying. Heated arguments always seemed to prelude particularly passionate moments between them – he had, unfortunately, found this out the hard way.

"Wait, what are you doing? It's my go now."

"But I'm after Harry and Harry just put down a card."

"Yes, it's the Reverse card, Ron, it means the order has just changed so it's my turn again."

Ron let out a stream of imaginative curses.

Hermione was pink in the face, her hair was starting to frizz around the edges. "Watch it, Ron! You _know_ I don't like it when you swear. Especially when it doesn't make any sense."

"Since when does swearing have to make sense? I think I made a lot more sense just now than all these ridiculous Muggle games combined—"

"Oh, right, because _Quidditch _just makes absolute logical sense—"

Harry winced at that. He wished Hermione wouldn't drag Quidditch into every argument she and Ron had. It insulted both of them, really.

Ron's voice rose several octaves higher. "_Don't _start on Quidditch again, I told you, it's _my _career choice—"

"I'm your girlfriend! Does my opinion not matter to you at _all_, Ronald Weasley?"

At that moment, the doorbell rang. "I'll get that," Harry said automatically. Ron and Hermione carried on arguing, Uno cards lying forgotten on the table. Harry stood up. It was about to be his cue, anyway.

He closed the kitchen door firmly behind him as he left, just in time. He heard the kitchen table being knocked over and the sound of seven open boxes of board games spilling all over the floor. "You two better pick everything up after!" He yelled unceremoniously over his shoulder, then hurried towards the front door before he could hear anything else.

As he walked past the mantelpiece in the living room, he smiled at his collection of miniature broomstick models. He had started collecting just after the end of the war. It had given him something to do, searching and probing in dusty antique shops as he'd waited to start his Auror training. It helped to take his mind off the people he lost. He just about had every single model now – although admittedly his collection had depleted somewhat ever since he'd started charming them for his godson.

It struck him suddenly that he hadn't seen Remus for at least a month and a half. He knew that Remus and Tonks had been having trouble lately – anyone with eyes could see that – and so he'd thought he would give them some space to sort things out (it was Ginny's advice, really – and she was usually right). He really hadn't meant to be out of touch for so long. But training to be an Auror was tiring and tedious, and work was beginning to affect his relationship with Ginny. The time had passed without any warning, as time usually did. Come to think of it, he didn't think he'd seen Remus since the man's belated birthday party in early April. _I'll call on him tomorrow._

It was with this thought in mind that he pulled open the front door of his inheritance and came face to face with his godfather, Sirius Black.

* * *

**Just a couple of notes:** **for those sharp-eyed people out there, I did in fact use my writer's discretion and changed some dates around to suit my story. As I said, this is non canon-compliant from OotP onwards. So far, here's what's been changed:**  
**- Teddy Lupin was born in early December of 1997 instead of April 1998. At the moment in this story's timeline it's around the middle of May 1998, which does make him (er...just about) six months old.**  
**- The Second Wizarding War officially ended in November of 1997, rather than May 1998.**

**Reviews greatly appreciated!**


	2. Dinner Invitations

**A/N:** **A nice long chapter coming up. Things will be gradually explained in the coming chapters - just as soon as I figure it all out myself! Meanwhile, thanks for the reviews, alerts & favorites, and keep 'em coming! We're just at the very beginning of this story.**

* * *

For a moment, the two men simply stared at each other. Then Sirius Black, eyes shining, as if he couldn't quite believe it, as if expelling the weight of the world on his shoulders, breathed: "_Harry_."

Harry reacted on instinct. Whipping out his wand, he pointed it at the man standing in the doorway, trying to ignore the fact that his hand was shaking.

"_Expelliarmus!_" He roared.

Nothing happened.

The man raised two hands in the air. His eyes were bright and he had shoulder-length black hair that was straggly and rough, like it hadn't been brushed for years. He was wearing a long black coat, a pair of well-worn black jeans and no shoes. He did bear an uncanny resemblance to Sirius – but it couldn't be.

It _couldn't_.

With his eyes fixed on him, the man said, "I'm not armed, Harry." His lips quirked. "And you really should stop relying on that spell."

Harry didn't respond. He kept his wand up and pinned on the other man while his head tried to sort out some sort of reasonable, rational explanation for what was happening. Behind him, he heard a clattering of footsteps and for a moment thought bemusedly that at least Ron and Hermione could still sense trouble happening in the middle of… other things.

He could tell the exact moment that they realized who was standing on the other side of the doorway without even turning around. He heard Hermione's sharp intake of breath and Ron's startled whisper of _no way _as they both skidded to a sudden halt behind him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw two other wands raised level with his own and felt a surge of immense gratefulness to his best friends.

Harry's heart felt like it was aching. He wanted to ask what was happening, who the man was and why the hell did he choose to impersonate Harry's godfather. There was probably fifty other less painful ways of torture that Harry could think of than to see the physical, breathing body of Sirius Black in front of him. Because his godfather was _dead_. And it had taken him almost two years to come to terms with it.

But he couldn't seem to get his mind to connect with his mouth.

Luckily, Hermione took charge of the situation. In a tone that brooked no argument, the tone that Harry recognized as her Ron-Weasley-You'd-Better-Do-As-I-Say-Or-Else voice, she said, "Who are you?"

At that, the man's lips cracked into a lopsided smile. "Don't tell me you've forgotten me already? It hasn't even been two years yet."

Harry found his voice. "Prove it," he said fiercely.

There was a pregnant pause. Was it Harry's imagination, or did the man actually look hurt? Finally, he said, "I'm an unregistered animagus, and in my animal form I take the shape of a dog."

Ron entered the conversation. "Public knowledge by now," he scoffed. "Something else."

Eyes narrowed, Sirius took a step into the entrance hallway. "During your fourth year of Hogwarts, I lived in a cave outside Hogsmeade and the three of you would bring me food."

"We told that to the Ministry after the war, it would be easily found out through their records," Hermione retorted.

"I sent Harry a Firebolt in your third year."

"Which he boasted about to everyone afterwards, anyone who knows Harry even a little knows that," Hermione snapped back.

Sirius made a mingled noise of frustration and exasperation. "You gave me the nickname of Snuffles when I was on the run."

There was another pause as they all tried to think of a way to disprove that. Harry's heart was pounding, picking up speed by the second. "I told Ginny that. And Dumbledore knew. But…" he drifted off uncertainly, hardly daring to believe it.

"Easily found out with a bit of research," Hermione said, waving a hand carelessly in a dismissive gesture. "Especially since that lovely piece of biographical trash on Harry that Rita Skeeter wrote was published a couple months ago."

"Oh for Merlin's sake," Sirius snapped, finally losing patience. His gaze landed on Hermione, and he looked her squarely in the eye before saying deliberately slowly, "Here, this should satisfy you: Remus Lupin was, and still is, the love of my life."

Startled, Harry heard Hermione's wand drop to the floor, heard her whispered exclamation of, "Oh my gosh, it _is _you." He turned to meet her eyes, and when she nodded, he lowered his wand. The next moment, he found himself wrapped in the very warm, very real embrace of his godfather.

Dimly, he was aware of Ron's spluttering, "He _what_?" and Hermione's hissed, "Shh, Ron! I swear, you're as oblivious as a teapot."

But he ignored all that, focusing instead on the breathing, livingbody that he was currently holding. "Sirius," he croaked, "you're _alive_."

He heard the familiar deep chuckle that he hadn't heard for two years. "Took you long enough, Harry." Pulling back, Sirius smiled; a genuine smile this time that reached all the corners of his face, made the corners of his eyes crinkle and showed off the dimples in his hallowed cheeks. "Although as your godfather, I suppose I _should _commend you for your extra precautions." Peering over Harry's head, he nodded at Ron and Hermione. "You two as well. Hermione, you're a smart girl."

Harry's head was spinning. "But, hang on, Sirius – how on earth can you – here – you died! I was _there_!"

Again, Sirius chuckled. "Eloquent as always, Harry." Then his smile faded a little as he looked around at the three of them. "I'm actually not all too sure myself. It's a bit of a long story."

"Well, if there's anything we have a lot of at the moment, it's time," said Hermione, and when Harry turned around to look at them, he felt his heart swell at the two warm, welcome and sincerely delighted smiles on both of his best friends' faces. "Harry and I have Saturday off from work, and Ron – well. I won't get into his career details yet." She accompanied this last remark with an annoyed but resigned glare at her boyfriend. "Come on in, Sirius. You've got a bit of explaining to do."

"A _lot_," Ron corrected, as they started moving collectively towards the kitchen. "Like what was that bit about Lupin all about?"

Hermione gave Ron an aggravated look. "Oh honestly, just because you never notice anything around you—"

"Actually," Harry interrupted sheepishly, "I – er – didn't really know about that bit either."

Sirius let out a loud bark of laughter as Hermione transferred her look to Harry. "You two would be lost without Hermione," he remarked. "Although admittedly, I thought Remus and I managed to hide it pretty well. The only people who ever knew about the relationship were your parents, Harry. But I suspected Hermione would have managed to figure it out, though, especially after having stayed at Grimmauld Place – you always seemed to be sending us knowing looks. Which is why I took the chance to say it. None of you seemed inclined to believe anything else."

Feeling guilty, Harry exchanged a look with Hermione. "Sorry about that. There's been more Death Eater attacks recently, so we've all been a bit more alert. Constant—"

"—Vigilance," Sirius finished for him fondly. "I remember."

"And you'll have to admit, having a supposedly dead person suddenly show up on your doorstep is cause for at least _some _alarm," Hermione added.

Sirius frowned slightly. "Hang on, Death Eater attacks? Didn't you say the war ended? Is Voldemort defeated?"

Realizing that his godfather had been completely out of the loop for the past twenty-three months, Harry replied, "Yes, Voldemort is defeated. His most loyal Death Eaters died along with him, but these attacks are mainly made by those newly initiated at his death and who have now taken up his cause, along with other Death Eater and Voldemort supporters. They've mostly been in hiding for the past seven months, but they're getting braver. We're worried they're building up an army."

They had reached the kitchen door by this point. Ron lead the way, cheerfully pushing open the door, then coming up short abruptly. "Erm, oops," he said, turning slightly pink. Harry suddenly remembered the upturned table and open boxes of board games. "Living room?" Ron offered.

Sirius peered into the kitchen, looking curious. "Do I want to know what happened in here?"

"Believe me, you don't," Harry told him, taking his godfather by the arm and guiding him back towards the living room, pointedly ignoring Ron's red ears and Hermione's flushed cheeks. He held on to Sirius tightly, still not entirely sure this wasn't a dream.

"Harry – _ow_!" Sirius yelped. "Harry, I'm not a squeeze toy!"

Harry relaxed his grip, embarrassed. "Sorry! This is just really surreal."

"Tell me about it," Sirius muttered. "I was as sure I was dead as you were."

"Why _are _you alive, Sirius?" Hermione asked, settling herself into one of the comfy armchairs in front of the fireplace.

Sirius didn't reply, he was looking around the room with a mixture of incredulity and amazement. "Harry," he murmured. "Look at what you've done with this place. I barely recognize it."

Harry blinked and looked around him. It dawned on him that the room did in fact look markedly different from when it was being used as the Order's headquarters during the war – after he had moved in, Hermione and Ginny had insisted on redecorating the place for him ("It just feels so dark here, Harry – a person can get depressed by just sitting here."). And having found no good counter-argument, Harry agreed. They had finally, after weeks of research in the library amongst the oldest and dustiest Charms spell books, managed to find a spell to vanish the portrait of Walburga Black at the end of the hallway. Any dim, dusty yellow lights had been removed and replaced with brighter white bulbs. The furniture had all mostly been transformed, thanks to Hermione's top-notch Transfiguration skills, and looked fresh and clean in warm, homey colors of brown, orange and blue. The old peeling wallpaper had also been scraped away and the walls repainted a sunny pale yellow.

He suddenly felt uncomfortable. What if Sirius didn't like it? Since he was still alive, it would mean that this house was technically still his.

Sirius must have sensed his discomfort because he turned and gave Harry a warm, reassuring smile. "It looks great, Harry." And as if to emphasize his point, he flopped down on the couch next to Hermione's and stretched out lazily.

Beaming, Harry sat down next to his godfather, and Ron took the armchair opposite Hermione. "So, tell us," said Hermione, tucking her feet under her to get in a more comfortable position, "what happened?"

###

Remus was cooking dinner, a task that usually fell to him because he was still, as yet, unemployed and spent most of his time at home. He didn't mind; there was something about chopping, seasoning and stirring a big pot of food that offered him peace he rarely got at any other time.

Tonight, it was going to be spaghetti bolognaise, which was one of Dora's favorites. He was hoping it would help bridge some of the distance that had been growing between them lately and give them a chance to talk and enjoy themselves over a meal together, which they hadn't done for a while. It wasn't anyone's fault; Tonks's job as an Auror was predictably unpredictable and with the recent attacks, it was unsurprising that she would be home late. But she had called today at lunch to tell him that she would be home for dinner. He had taken that as a good sign.

He threw a pinch of chili flakes into the sauce and tasted it. _A little more salt._

At that moment, he felt a brush of wind and turned around to see Kingsley's patronus, still a haughty-looking lynx, materialize in front of him.

"_Remus, Tonks sends her sincerest apologies that she is required to work late tonight. Our unit is needed on patrol, there have been several suspected Death Eaters seen lurking near Godric's Hollow."_

The patronus vanished.

Remus remained completely still for a moment, fighting down the fury that was building up inside and threatening to overtake him. The fact that she had not even bothered to send her own patronus, rather sending the message through someone else's, hurt even more than the knowledge that she would, yet again, be missing dinner. He wondered when they were going to face what was slowly but surely happening to their marriage.

His mind turned to the other piece of information relayed by the patronus, feeling a twinge of alarm. Death Eaters near Godric's Hollow – the place still brought back haunted memories for Remus. The thought of anything with even a vague connection to Voldemort appearing there again made him feel slightly nauseous. Images of James, Lily and Sirius swam in his mind. He pushed them away, returning to his cooking, which suddenly seemed like a waste of effort.

As he stirred the sauce around, idly wondering if Andromeda had managed to put Teddy to sleep yet, it occurred to him that it had been a while since he had last had contact with Harry. _Not since my birthday_, he thought with a frown. It was unlike Harry to be out of touch for so long. He wondered if something had happened between him and Ginny.

Hesitating, he glanced at the pot. _I could invite him for dinner. And Ron and Hermione too. We have more than enough._

Making up his mind, he turned the heat down low on the stovetop and headed towards the fireplace. He didn't like fire-calls, but didn't feel like he had the strength to muster up a patronus at the moment. Grabbing a handful of floo powder, he threw it into the fire and called, "Number 12, Grimmauld Place!"

He could make out the voices of Harry, Ron and Hermione before he could see them, chattering excitedly.

"But that's not possible! There must be some other explanation—"

"If Dumbledore was still alive, he'd be able to explain—"

"Dumbledore didn't know the answer to everything—"

"_Harry_, it's Remus!" This belonged to Hermione, and as Remus's vision cleared he finally saw her crouching in front of the fireplace, looking surprisingly anxious. Harry came into view next, squatting next to Hermione. Behind them he could see another two pairs of feet – Ron, and clearly they had another visitor. His heart sank. Probably wouldn't be up for dinner then.

"Hey, Remus!" Harry smiled; he looked more excited than Remus had seen him in a long time. Indeed, Harry looked as though he'd just gotten his Christmas present seven months early. "I was just thinking of contacting you! You won't believe what's happened—"

"Ron qualified for the shortlist for England's Quidditch team," Hermione said loudly over Harry's slightly startled expression. "As team Catcher."

"_Keeper_, Hermione," Harry corrected with the long-suffering tone of someone explaining something they wished they never had to explain again.

"Erm, yeah!" This was Ron, crouching down between them. "It's just the shortlist, but, well, it's a good sign. I'm really happy about it." He looked genuinely excited, eyes shining, as he gave Remus a grin.

"Congratulations, that's wonderful news, Ron," Remus said, returning the grin. "Looks like I'm actually going to know a real Quidditch star! Your father and Sirius would be so insanely jealous." He added, winking at Harry.

Harry was looking like a deer caught in headlights. He caught a look from Hermione and quickly rearranged his expression. "Uh, yeah! Yeah, I'm pretty sure they would be. Anyway, how are you?"

"Well, Dora's not going to be home for dinner and I just realized I had a ton of extra pasta, so I was wondering if you lot would be interested in joining me for dinner," Remus peered between them. He could just make out a pair of scruffy jeans sitting on the farthest couch in between Ron and Hermione's bodies, but that was all he could see from his vantage view point. "Your friend can come too, if he likes," he offered.

Hermione must have realized what he was looking at, because she did everything short of climbing onto Ron's lap in a not-so-subtle attempt to block his view. "He, er, doesn't like strangers," she said quickly. "Thanks so much for the invitation, Remus, but we've already eaten, actually." Behind her, Remus saw the scruffy jeans disappear. "But we'd love to come another time. I really want to see Teddy soon, it's been too long."

Disappointed, and unable to shake the feeling that he was being politely dismissed, Remus only said mildly, "Sure, Hermione, no problem."

"Give Teddy my love," Harry called as he withdrew.

Back in his own kitchen, Remus shook the soot out of his hair and sighed. He wondered briefly who Harry's other friend was – he usually hung out with the same group of people nowadays, so new people unknown to him were rare, but then dismissed it from his mind. Probably someone he knew from his Auror training.

The thought of Aurors stirred up another sting of bitterness in Remus. Dinner alone with his mother-in-law, again. He really did need to get a job.

* * *

**So, for the purposes of this story, you can assume Dumbledore died the same way as he did in the books and at about the same time. I don't have access to my HP books at the moment so my memory of what Grimmauld Place is supposed to look like is hazy, and so I took some liberties there - hope I wasn't too far off! And I really hope that when the disarming spell is used on someone who isn't armed, nothing actually happens. Heh.**


	3. Silent Messages

**A/N:** **Oh, the joys of being on uni holiday and unemployed. Enjoy these frequent updates while they last! Some brief explanations here (which will be expanded on later) and a bit of plot development. **

* * *

"I think we hurt his feelings."

"He'll be fine, Harry."

"Hermione, he thinks we're lying to him."

"Well, we are, mate."

"_Ron_—"

"I don't like it."

"Harry, we agreed."

"Remus is like a father figure to me, I feel horrible for not telling him."

"You have to think of Sirius."

"They're basically best friends! I don't get why he doesn't want him to know yet!"

"Apparently they're a bit more than friends."

"Oh do shut up, Ron."

The sound of a throat being cleared from the kitchen doorway stopped the conversation mid-flow. Harry looked up from the kitchen counter where he was slicing a loaf of bread and stared somewhat guiltily at his godfather, who was leaning against the wall looking amused.

Sirius ignored the sudden silence and instead sat down at the kitchen table, which had been restored back to its original state. He straddled a chair with his long legs and asked, "What's for dinner?"

"Toast," Ron said from his spot at the table where the as yet unopened _Daily Prophet _was lying in front of him, in a voice that completely betrayed the fact this was not the first time they had had to resort to that particular choice for dinner.

Looking even more amused, Sirius remarked, "Really? Between the three of you and your experience of living in the forest for half a year, the most you can manage to cook is toast?"

They had already briefly but succinctly filled Sirius in on the events of the war and their role in it, which he had listened to with a mixture of alarm, concern and – Harry could have sworn he detected it – pride. He had looked surprised at his brother's role in attempting to destroy one of Voldemort's Horcruxes, but the only comment he made on that was, "I guess he did realize right from wrong in the end, after all." He refused to say anything else on the subject. He had taken Dumbledore's death mildly enough; Harry had a feeling that his godfather had never really been on that great terms with the Hogwarts' previous Headmaster. Snape's role and death in the battle caused a haunted shadow of guilt and remorse flicker briefly across Sirius's face, but he said nothing on it otherwise. Harry had also briefly told him about Remus's role in helping the Order and at the Battle of Hogwarts, passing over it quickly, but he had held back from telling him one of the more important bit of news concerning Remus's personal life. He wasn't sure how much of their fire-call with Remus he had overheard before, but Sirius had never been the most attentive of people. His main concern was that he didn't know how his godfather would take it.

Sirius's own description of his return from death was a lot more vague and disconcerting. According to him, in some unknown dimension of space and time, a bright light had suddenly appeared. He had followed the light without thinking, getting closer and closer. When he reached out a hand to touch it, the light disappeared, and he suddenly found himself alive and breathing in the middle of London. Harry had a feeling that his godfather was deliberately keeping something back, but had chosen to let it go for the moment as Ron's stomach had let out a loud grumble closely followed by its owner's own remonstrations.

He tuned himself back into the conversation.

"Hermione transfigured food a lot of the time, which tasted like a whole lot of nothing," Ron was grumbling, earning himself a subsequent nasty look from Hermione.

"Somehow, Ronald, I didn't think gourmet food was top on our list of priorities at that moment in time."

Trying to head off the inevitable argument, Harry asked, "Can you cook anything, Sirius?"

His godfather looked sheepish. "Erm. Eggs?"

Ron looked measurably brighter. "Excellent. Eggs on toast it is. Has to be better than just plain bread."

Harry caught Hermione's What-Kind-Of-Host-Are-You look. Casting a glance at Sirius's drawn face and noting that his godfather did in fact look incredibly tired, Harry said hastily, "Um, that's okay. Don't worry, Sirius, we'll take care of it."

"Just don't transfigure them," Ron groused.

"Help yourself to something to drink, Sirius," Hermione said cheerfully. She walked around the kitchen table and headed towards Harry, hitting Ron smartly on the back of his head as she passed him and ignoring his indignant yelp. When she reached the spot where Harry was bent over with concentration on cutting even slices of bread, she grabbed a pan from the kitchen cupboards above him and examined it critically: it was brown and rusty, evidently from lack of use. She gave it a cautious sniff, wrinkled her nose with distaste and muttered a quick Cleaning charm under her breath. Then she gave Harry a resigned look. "I suppose you want me to…?"

"Thanks a million, 'Mione," Harry said, relieved, and passed her a carton of eggs before returning to his own task.

There was a comfortable silence in the kitchen as they each focused on their own thoughts. Then finally, as though unable to keep it in any longer, Sirius finally blurted, "So how's Remus?"

It was amazing how quickly a silence could turn heavy. Harry saw Hermione wince and crack an egg so hard against the bowl that one side of its shell caved and fell in along with a gloopy mess of broken yolk and egg white. Ron had picked up the _Prophet _and, spreading it open, raised it so that it blocked his face from Sirius's view entirely. Not wanting to be the one to break the news either, Harry doubled over the bread and focused on the sawing motion of his knife.

But silence was an answer in itself. "What?" Sirius said sharply.

Harry exchanged looks with Ron and Hermione. If their silent conversation could have been recorded, it would have been something along these lines:

_Ron, you tell him._

_No way, mate, you're his godson._

_Hermione, you're a girl, you know how to be sensitive and stuff about these things. You tell him._

_How sexist. Harry, it's your responsibility._

_I didn't even know about him and Remus until a few hours ago! Why am I suddenly burdened with his relationship issues? Like I don't have enough of my own._

A dry cough caused the three of them to look over at Sirius, Ron lowering his newspaper abashedly. The animagus was looking impatient and a little irritated.

"As much as I love awkward silences… will someone please tell me what's going on? And Harry, if you put your face any closer to that bread you'll be slicing your own nose off."

Harry sighed and carefully laid down the bread knife, safely out of anyone's way. "Okay, here's the thing," he said slowly, and stopped.

Sirius looked at him expectantly.

Harry sent one last pleading look at his best friends, and when that returned no results, he closed his eyes and said, faster than the speed of light: "ThethingisRemusismarriedtoTo nksandtheyhaveakid."

He opened his eyes to be greeted by Sirius's look of bewilderment.

Hermione let out an exasperated sigh that seemed to say all too clearly _why am I friends with you people_? She wiped her hands on a paper towel and turned to Sirius. "What Harry was _trying _to tell you, Sirius, is that Remus is married. To Tonks."

Harry studied his godfather anxiously. So far, he didn't seem to be having any sort of adverse reaction. If anything, he looked more confused than ever. "To _who_?"

"Tonks?" Hermione faltered, glancing at Harry uncertainly. "Um, I think she's your cousin?"

"You mean _Nymphadora_?" Sirius let loose a bark of hysterical laughter. "You can't be serious!"

No one seemed to know quite how to respond to that. Hermione twisted the paper towel around between her fingers, looking torn.

The smile wavered on Sirius's face. "You mean… really?"

The three of them nodded.

Sirius studied the lines on top of the tabletop intently for a few moments. When he looked up, his face had become expressionless. Somehow, the blankness there scared Harry more than anything else. "You said something about a kid?"

Harry mentally cursed himself for blurting everything out in one go. Judging by Hermione's glare, she was doing the same thing.

He decided that the best policy was honesty. "Yes. Remus and Tonks have a son. Called Teddy. Teddy Lupin."

And the silence was back again, roaring in their ears, taking over the entire kitchen. Sirius's fingers were white from clenching the edge of the table. With what seemed like superhuman effort, he released his hold and took a deep breath. "That's great news," he said, and Harry felt his own heart contract painfully when he saw the hurt unable to be hidden in Sirius's eyes, the forced smile on his godfather's lips. "Really great. Excuse me," he added abruptly, and in an instant Sirius had pushed himself away from the table and was gone from the room.

Harry looked down at the loaf of bread, realizing that he wasn't hungry anymore. Ron frowned down at the newspaper in his hands, as if it could provide the answers to solving all of life's problems.

Hermione was fishing out broken pieces of egg shell from the bowl. After a few moments she gave up and pushed the bowl away, looking unhappy. "Poor Sirius," she murmured.

Suddenly, Ron let out a startled shout. He held up the paper for Harry and Hermione, eyes fixed on an article right at the center of the page, under a large black and white moving image of a horribly familiar leering man – if that was even the right description for him. Harry felt suddenly sick.

The caption read: _FENRIR GREYBACK – NOT SO DEAD?_

And underneath, the title of the article: _SAVAGE WEREWOLVES SPOTTED IN EUROPE._

Silence had never seemed so deadly.

###

When Tonks finally arrived back home and stumbled into their bedroom, Remus was lying in bed, wide awake in the darkness. The clock on the bedside drawer read: 1:00AM.

He wanted to say so many things to her. He wanted to scream in frustration, throw accusations in her face, ask her where she'd been and what the hell she'd been doing because the alcohol he caught a whiff of all the way from across the room (once again, he thanked his outrageously sensitive werewolf scent) was definitely not from doing unit patrol duty.

But he was too fearful. Fearful of what opening the can of worms would entail, fearful that if he did, the thread holding their marriage together would finally dissolve, and he would be left with nothing. Fearful that his words could split his family apart and that the blame would sit squarely on his shoulders if it did so.

So he swallowed his resentment instead. "Did you catch anyone?" He asked, and he was aware of how loud his voice sounded in the silence of the night.

There was a pause. Remus could feel Tonks's surprise from across the room, vibrating off her in waves. "Why aren't you asleep?" He heard her say, and then: "No, we didn't."

"Couldn't sleep." He traced meaningless patterns into the bedsheet, watching as she changed into a nightdress. He saw the contours of her curves in the dim light of the moon that broke in through a crack in the curtains. He heard the bed creak as she got in and immediately drew the covers over herself, turning so that her back was to him. "I'm glad you're safe," he offered.

For a long while, he thought she wouldn't reply. He was just about to turn his own back and attempt to fall into oblivious unconsciousness when he heard it:

"Goodnight, Remus."

He almost didn't catch it, she had whispered it so softly against her pillow. But the words gave him hope, and he found himself smiling in the dark.

"Night, Dora."

* * *

**Reviews are awesome! So much love for everyone who's supported this story so far! Here, have a cookie. If this is going a bit too slowly for you, don't worry, we will be picking up the pace in the next chapter.**


	4. Dreamy Intuitions

**A/N:** **Okay, this may seem like a bit of a filler chapter, but there are details here that I will come back to later that are important! Eek.**

* * *

The rest of May passed relatively quietly. Almost too quietly, thought Remus. It was like the calm before the storm.

_The storm of what?_

His marriage with Tonks finally seemed to be getting back on track; he could sense her attempting to make an effort as opposed to the defeated aura that had smothered her for the past few weeks. The string of late work nights and coming home past midnight had lessened. Just yesterday they had gone out together to have dinner. An actual date. He couldn't remember the last time they had one prior to that. And it had been enjoyable – she had been in a good mood, laughing and eating with a hearty appetite, even flirting with him. It almost seemed like old times. _Almost._ But it was good enough.

No. At the moment, that wasn't what was bothering him.

He bounced Teddy up and down as he considered.

Harry was hiding something.

He hadn't been certain at first, putting the lack of recent contact down to Harry's duties as an Auror-in-training. But when another week passed since his rejected dinner invitation and no word came from Harry, he knew it for sure. He was being avoided.

The reason for the avoidance was something a lot more difficult to pinpoint.

He was (almost) quite certain he hadn't done anything. Which meant that Harry was avoiding him for reasons of his own.

He told himself that it was really none of his business. It was probably personal and he needed time to figure it out. He was an adult. He would treat this situation like an adult. When Harry was ready to talk, he would contact Remus again.

If only he wasn't so damn _curious_.

Looking down at his peacefully sleeping son, Remus asked aloud, "What do you think Uncle Harry's hiding, Teddy?"

To his surprise, Teddy woke up, gurgled and contemplated him with one eye. Evidently considering his father's problems wasn't important enough to disturb his sleep, he closed his eyes again.

For a moment, Remus thought back to his own childhood. His main memories of that revolved around the discovery and dealings with his lycanthropy.

He gave his son a fierce kiss on the forehead. At least his own child didn't have those problems. And Remus swore he never would.

###

Two weeks since Sirius's sudden return from the Veil, Harry's life had resettled itself into a new routine. He woke up at seven, made breakfast (or more accurately, set out the cereal box and a loaf of bread from the cabinet on the kitchen table and put on the kettle) and skimmed over the headlines of the _Prophet_. He left for Auror training at seven thirty, leaving breakfast on the table for Sirius whose morning wake-up time depended on his mood and varied from nine till noon. During lunchtime, he would order an extra portion and give it to Hedwig to take back to Grimmauld Place for Sirius. As yet, no one had questioned him on his suddenly doubled appetite. Ron would drop by the house in the afternoon for an hour or so to keep Sirius company while he waited for news from England's Quidditch team, and as far as Harry was concerned these afternoon sessions were spent largely discussing the detailed pros and cons of the current top Quidditch players.

Then, when he returned home after training, he would either pop something into the microwave (a Muggle invention he thought worth every investment) otherwise Hermione would come around and cook a little something. The rest of the evening was spent chatting with Sirius, and Harry was slowly getting to know his godfather better little by little. No topics were off limits during their chats except for one noticeable exception: Remus. Every time Harry mentioned his previous professor's name, Sirius would clam up and changed the subject. It was frustrating, but Harry knew what his godfather needed was time, and it was with visible effort that he quelled his increasingly intense desire to know more about their mysterious relationship and gave it to him.

But as June rolled around, Harry realized there was going to be a disruption to the routine they had settled into so nicely.

"Ginny's back in two weeks," he told Ron and Hermione as they had lunch together on the sixth day of June. "She'll want to stay with me for a while, at some point… what do I tell her about Sirius?"

They had all come to a consensus the night of Sirius's return that they would not tell anyone what had happened. "At least," Hermione had said, "not until we figure out what's actually going on here – people don't come back from the dead just like _that_."

They'd known it couldn't last forever. But none of them could agree on who was the best person to tell, and the entire question had disintegrated as they focused on the everyday aspects of their lives.

Ron paused with a mouthful of turkey sandwich in his mouth. "Term is over already?" He said, sounding amazed. "Bloody hell… that means Ginny's finished her seventh year."

Hermione chewed her pasta with more force than necessary, looking a little disgruntled. Harry watched silently. He knew that Hermione loved her job in the Ministry working as the youngest Unspeakable apprentice, but had always suspected that she always slightly regretted not returning to Hogwarts to finish her final year. It had seemed like such trivial thing after the war. Changes were happening left and right, and a stable career seemed like the more important choice for a reliably happy future.

Lots of things seemed trivial after the war, really. That was the trouble: war warped all previous perspective on life.

"You should tell her, mate. It's just Ginny," said Ron, interrupting his thoughts between mouthfuls.

Hermione was busy ripping off chunks of garlic bread so hard half of it flew across the table. "I think we should be more careful. Ginny might tell someone else, and then it'll spread like wildfire—"

"My sister is not a blabbermouth," Ron snapped.

"I didn't say she is, I was merely emphasizing our need to be cautious—"

"Hey," Harry cut in, feeling a little irritated. "Can we get through one meal without you two arguing? Thank you," he added as his best friends looked a little shameful. "Now can we get back to the issue? What should I tell Ginny?"

"Tell her the truth," Ron swallowed the last bite of his sandwich with a swig of pumpkin juice and gave Harry's untouched soup a serious stare. "You gonna eat that, mate?"

Harry, who felt like he had more important issues to worry about, pushed the soup across to Ron. "You're saying I should tell her my dead godfather has miraculously returned and has been living with me for almost two weeks, and he's also currently avoiding his secret werewolf lover because he just found out he's married?"

Ron choked on a mouthful of soup. "Well, when you put it like that…"

Looking more amused than anything else, Hermione raised one eyebrow and repeated, "'Secret werewolf lover'?"

Harry winced. "I kind of regretted that even as the words were coming out of my mouth."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Look, all I'm saying is, we can't even _tell _Ginny much anyway. We know next to nothing about Sirius's return ourselves except for what he's told us, and I for one think he's not telling us everything. I think it's just a better precaution to do a little more research and try to find out more about what's really happening here before we go around spreading news that the dead are coming back to life, can you imagine what kind of mess that would cause? And we also have to consider…" She paused, looking suddenly wary as she glanced at Harry.

He had a sneaking suspicion that he knew what she wanted to say. He didn't want to hear it. He opened a bottle of water and started drinking instead.

Being Hermione, she said it anyway. "We have to consider that it might have something to do with the Death Eaters and Voldemort's supporters, Harry. Or even some new mysterious force at work here. We don't know what that means." _We don't know if this means a revival of war. We don't know if he'll be able to stay._

Harry continued to drink, glad that he had given Ron his soup because his appetite had now vanished completely. He didn't want to think about it.

After a moment, he realized he was sucking in air. The empty bottle in his hand had crumbled in on itself. He tossed it into the trashcan and stood up.

"I'll tell Ginny that I'm still renovating and she can't stay with me yet," he said abruptly. "Let's take it day by day."

And he left before either Ron or Hermione could say anything else.

###

That night when Remus slept, the dreams started.

_He was back in Hogwarts with Sirius, James and Peter. It was their fourth year; the year when Remus had finally realized that his overwhelming crush on Sirius wasn't about to go away anytime soon. They were in the Quidditch pitch; Sirius and James competing broom tricks in air while he and Peter sat on the wet grass, heads tilted up, watching and laughing._

"_Watch this!" James flipped himself upside-down on his broom and released his hands so that he was hanging only by his legs. _

"_Beginner's stuff, Potter," Sirius imitated the trick easily, before unhooking one leg so that he was dangling from his broom by one knee. Remus felt his heart flip-flop._

_James snorted. He swung himself back upright effortlessly, then without warning turned his broom and headed straight towards Sirius at full speed._

_There was a frantic shout that Remus realized came from himself. In the air, Sirius swung himself sideways and latched onto his broom again with both hands, pulling himself back on top just as James zoomed through the empty space he had been hanging in a second ago. "You arse," Sirius called, laughing easily._

_James was grinning, hair sticking up straight from the wind. He adjusted his glasses and glanced down at the two figures standing in the pitch. "I think we'd better stop it before Moony has a heart attack."_

_Sirius peered down. "Wonder if he'll live through this, then?" He mused. He turned his broom and headed downwards, aiming towards the other two Marauders._

_Remus saw him coming. Previous relief that both Sirius and James were all right was quickly turning into suspicious dread. As Sirius got closer, Remus started backing away. "Oh, no no no__…__"_

"_Oh _yes_!" Sirius crowed. In one smooth motion he released both hands from his broom and grabbed Remus under his arms, using the momentum of his speed to lift him up and sit him in front._

"_ARE YOU MAD?" Remus yelled, holding onto the broom with both hands for dear life._

"_This is fun!" Sirius let out a triumphant whoop and pointed the nose of the broom back up into the sky, flying them towards James, who was clinging onto his broom in fits of hysterical laughter._

"_IF I LIVE, REST ASSURED THAT I WILL KILL YOU."_

_Remus squeezed his eyes shut against the wind, steadfastly determined not to look down and started muttering a prayer to every god and wizard he knew under his breath._

_His eyes snapped open a moment later and he forgot what he had been doing as he felt two strong skinny arms snake around his waist from behind and pull him close. "Relax," he heard Sirius whisper right next to his ear. "I know what I'm doing."_

_So Remus did. He leaned back slightly against Sirius, savouring the warmth of the other boy's skin, and closed his eyes again. He felt the wind whipping his cheeks as they soared towards the clouds, felt Sirius's arms wound tightly around his waist. And it was the memory of this feeling that helped him endure the next year and a half in which he kept his feelings tightly secured from Sirius's knowledge. Because at that moment, it was enough._

_Then the broom dipped and Remus let out a high pitched, very un-manly screech. He heard Sirius chuckling as one hand was released from his waist. "Whoops, sorry, forgot to steer."_

_As they headed back towards the ground, Remus gazed up towards the watery blue sky and swore that he wouldn't forget this moment as long as he lived._

He woke with a start, heart pounding and palms sweating. Beside him, he could hear Tonks's soft snores. He fisted his pillow and buried his face into the cotton sheets, muffling a groan.

He didn't sleep at all for the rest of the night.

* * *

**If it seems like I'm preoccupied with getting the dates right, that's cause I am. Reason of which will become clear in the next couple of chapters, if none of you clever readers can guess it first! I want their reunion to coincide with a very particular date (which I genuinely hope I'm right about...). Oh, and Hedwig is alive here because, well, I like Hedwig.**

**Review, review, review!**


	5. Poetic Reminders

**A/N: Long chapter for you wonderful people. This chapter refused to come easily; it wanted to wrestle with me and I had to beat it into submission. It took a turn in the middle that I wasn't expecting it to take. Remus has more dreams, Harry and Hermione have some Serious Discussions (pun intended), and we also have a little reference to the title (because I couldn't quite resist)... but enough from me, onwards we go!**

* * *

_They were lying together in Remus's bed in their dorm, sixth year. Sirius was pressing light butterfly kisses down Remus's arm. Remus turned and laid a hand on top of his for a moment._

"_What are we going to tell the others?" He asked softly._

_Sirius stilled. In the darkness, Remus could just make out the glint of his eyes. He reached for his wand and mutters, "Lumos."_

_Sirius moved away from him and stretches out on the pillow. Remus could see the uncertainty and hesitancy in his eyes. He moved closer and draped an arm across his stomach. "We don't have to say anything yet if you don't want to."_

"_It's just—" Sirius turned and faced him. "I don't know how Prongs'll take it. What if__…__" He let the sentence drift, unfinished, the unspoken consequences floating between them._

"_He won't. He's your best friend. He'll be happy for us." _

"_You're my best friend too."_

"_Oh?" Remus raised an eyebrow, a sly grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "Is that all I am?"_

_Sirius laughed, a wicked look in his eyes, and suddenly Remus found himself flipped onto his back with Sirius leaning over him. "You are so much more, Mister Moony__…__" And his hands were everywhere, searching, exploring, seducing__…_

Remus jolted awake for the fifth night in a row and realized he was sweating. He glanced outside and saw the first rays of the sun beginning to peek in through the curtains. The clock read 5.40AM. He'd only gotten three hours of sleep. Recently, he had taken to lying in bed with a book and his wand (reminding him wistfully of Hogwarts days), reading until his eyelids drooped and he couldn't avoid sleep any longer.

It wasn't only that the dreams were a terrifying reminder of past ghosts and memories that scared him, it was that the dreams were exhilarating and exciting as well. It made him yearn for things he could not have while enlarging the gaping hole inside of him that he had thought long healed since Sirius's death – but turned out not to be. It was confusing.

He looked down and saw the bulge at the front of his pants. Flashes of the dream came back to him hauntingly, playing in front of him like a black and white film.

Gritting his teeth, he swung himself out of bed, ignoring Tonks's sleepy mumble, and headed off to the bathroom. It was going to be another long day.

_###_

"Checkmate."

"Damn it."

Ron chuckled as Sirius reluctantly poked his resentful-looking chess king so that it toppled over. "Better luck next time."

"Luck wouldn't win against you," Sirius grumbled. "I believe your chess players are actually helping you with your tactics."

Ron shrugged, grinning.

Harry, reclined in one of the comfy blue armchairs by the fireplace, watched this scene with an amused smile. The chess game, as usual, had been Hermione's idea – but it had worked in its purpose: distracting Sirius.

He had noticed that his godfather seemed to be getting more and more secluded within himself, emerging from his room less and less. Harry had no idea what he was doing in there. _What can a man who has just apparently come back to life be so busy doing anyway? _He thought, and immediately felt a sharp pang of guilt for it.

Hermione, who was curled up in the armchair next to him with a book on her lap, motioned for him to lean in. "I've been thinking," she whispered, keeping a careful eye on the two men who were now setting up for their fourth game.

"When are you not?"

"Shh, this is serious!"

"Yes, that _is _Sirius."

"_Harry_!"

Harry, unable to help himself, burst out laughing. Ron and Sirius glanced over with vague interest, and then deciding that their game was more important, returned their attention to the chess board.

Hermione was glaring at him. He straightened his face out hastily and tried to look apologetic. "I'm sorry, 'Mione. What were you going to say?"

She glowered at him for a second longer just to emphasize her point before saying, "I think we should go to Hogwarts."

Harry blinked. "Why?"

"To talk to the Headmistress."

"You want to talk to Minerva?"

"Yes, to Prof—Minerva," said Hermione, and Harry bit back another laugh. Hermione still had trouble addressing her previous professors by their first names.

"About Sirius?"

Hermione chewed on her lower lip, a nervous habit. Lowering her voice even more so that Harry had to practically put his ear right next to her mouth, she hissed, "Well, yes. I've been doing research into the Veil and all these different theories on what's between life and death, and for that matter if there'd been any circumstances of mysterious bright lights bringing dead people back to life, but I've come up with nothing."

"But you're Hermione. You _always _come up with something."

She sensed his teasing and gave him a nudge with her elbow. "Yes, but any information about the Veil in the Ministry library is in the highly classified section, and as an apprentice I can't actually access it yet. I need to get permission, and what am I going to say to get that? That I need it to figure out why Sirius Black, the notorious escaped Azkaban prisoner, is now alive again?"

"The _pardoned _escaped Azkaban prisoner," Harry corrected automatically.

She was getting impatient now, darting glances between Harry and the other two at a speed that made him feel dizzy. "Look. I know you like having your godfather back in your life and having something like your own family again. But you can't avoid the truth here, it's going to come out eventually and, well, I don't think this is as simple as someone just decided Sirius should get a second chance at life, Harry. There's something else at work here."

He was silent, playing with the frayed edges of the armchair. He could feel a petulant scowl about to form and he fought to clear his face of any expression. Finally, he sighed. "Fine. But, just… give it another week or so, okay? Let me enjoy my time with Sirius. Let's say a month from the date he came back—what was that, the twenty-second?"

She gave him a long look, then leaned back and exhaled a sigh of her own. "Oh, all right. June twenty-second, if I still haven't found anything, we'll go to Minerva."

"Deal." Spirits restored once more, Harry returned his attention to the game. Ron had now won his fourth round in a row and was crowing in victory whilst Sirius's chess pieces appeared to be sending him dirty looks. Sirius himself looked peevish.

"Right." Sirius whirled around in his seat so that he was facing Harry and Hermione. "Does somebody else want to try getting beaten in five minutes? It's brutal, I tell you."

"I'll play," Hermione said, tossing her curly hair over her shoulder and slamming shut her book. "Come on, Ronald. I just need one more win to even our score."

"In your dreams, 'Mione," Ron replied, setting up the chess pieces once more.

Sirius came and lounged in Hermione's vacated seat. "All right, Harry?"

Harry grinned in response. "Never better."

And it was these moments—a hot summer's night in June, without a war to worry about, spending an evening indoors together with his closet remaining familial link and his two best friends—that was completely irreplaceable to Harry. Hermione had been right, of course. This was the closest he'd ever come to having a happy family of his own, and he didn't want to let it go. Again.

###

"You haven't been sleeping well lately."

The statement, not a question, came from Tonks as she and Remus had breakfast together on the morning of June 11th.

"Do you think," Tonks said, in a tone that suggested she was skirting very carefully around the subject, "that the fact your dreams have started up again… well, have you checked the calendar recently?"

He knew what she was talking about, the looming date that was about to fall on him like a ton of bricks in a week, and in all likelihood that _was _the reason for the revival of his dreams, but he didn't want to talk about it. Opting to breeze over her question instead, he sipped his coffee and idly flicked through the month's issue of _The Quibbler; _a picture of nonchalance. "Mm-hmm," was all he said.

Tonks stared at him. Overhead, the sound of another charmed miniature broomstick buzzing amidst Teddy's squeals of delight could be heard. She folded up the _Prophet_, which she had been flicking through moments ago, and set it on the table beside her plate, her movements precise and delicate.

"You can talk about him, you know," she said quietly. "I don't mind."

He felt himself tense immediately. It was an involuntary reaction, but insisted on happening whenever Sirius's death was mentioned, in however obscure a context. He had never discussed the topic with his wife. Even now, he was unsure as to how much Sirius's death had affected her, and how much of his and Sirius's relationship she was actually aware of. While he was alive, they had never told anybody their secret but James and Lily. But women had the tendency to notice things when you wanted them unnoticeable. It was both a blessing and a curse.

Setting down his coffee, he said, keeping his voice at the same even tone as hers, "Thanks, Dora. I don't think so, though."

It took a moment to realize that she was mad. She was attempting to conceal it, but his wolf senses picked up emotions as well as scents, and he could feel the anger radiating off her in waves. But underneath that, stronger still, was hurt.

He felt remorse toil in his stomach and decided to change the subject. Gesturing to the magazine he was reading, he asked, "When did we start subscribing to _The Quibbler_? We've never gotten it before."

And the anger was subsiding, although the hurt lingered. Tonks gathered up his untouched clean plate, stacked it on top of her own plate full of croissant crumbs and carried it over to the sink. "We didn't," she said, over the sound of running water, "Harry sent that over this morning."

He was distracted by the title of the article he was reading – _MINERVA MCGONAGALL: EXCEEDING EXPECTATIONS_ that showed the familiar if rather irate looking grey-haired woman standing with her arms crossed, glowering at the camera_; _he would have to call up Minerva later on so they could have a laugh about that – so he almost missed what she said. His mind doubled back to their conversation and he suddenly looked up, alert.

"Who?"

"Harry," Tonks repeated, apparently giving up on manual dishwashing and waving her wand to clean all the dirty dishes in one go.

"Harry came by?"

"No, it was sent over with Hedwig, along with another one of those mini-brooms," Tonks sighed. "You really need to have a talk with him and ask him to stop doing that, Remus. They're driving me crazy."

"Teddy loves them," Remus said automatically, his mind returning to the magazine as he flipped through it vigorously. After three weeks of no contact from Harry since the fire-call, if he sent something over, then the magazine must have some sort of message.

_You're being paranoid. It's just an offer of retribution, he feels bad for avoiding you._

Maybe. But he knew Harry.

"I _know _Teddy loves them, and I know Harry's his godfather, but if one more of those ridiculous broomsticks comes attacking me in the middle of – oh, for _god's _sake!" Remus glanced up in time to see, as if on cue, Harry's latest charm experiment whiz into the room and make a beeline for Tonks's hair, which was twisted up in a bubble-gum pink knot today on top of her head. Tonks ducked, just in time. The broom whirled around and made a second attempt at making a new home in her hair.

Remus grinned as Tonks stunned the broom and it fell onto the floor. "It's just a bit of fun," he offered.

"It's not funny." Tonks picked up the broom and swept bits of loose hair back behind her ears. "Look, I have to go. Try and figure out if there's a way to stop these things without stunning them? I would use the counter spell but I have no idea what charm Harry put on these, and Teddy'll kick up a fuss if they don't fly again."

Remus hid his smile behind _The Quibbler_. "Those brooms do seem to have a personality of their own."

He heard Tonks let out a half amused, half exasperated huff before leaving the kitchen. Once he heard the front door close, he returned his attention to the magazine, forehead creasing as he studied the contents page. His eyes flicked over the headlines, his frown increasing. An interview with a man who claimed to have flown to another planet on the new Nimbus 4000, a profile on Kingsley Shacklebolt debating on his chances on being the next Minister for Magic. But nothing that seemed to jump out in significance to Remus.

He was just about to give up when he saw it:

_WHERE ARE THEY NOW? – A LOOK AT THE HEROES OF THE WAR SIX MONTHS LATER, P38._

He flipped to the page, feeling suddenly nervous without quite knowing why.

At the top, predictably, was Harry Potter. Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley were right below him, along with Minerva McGonagall, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Neville Longbottom, Rubeus Hagrid and a list of other familiar as well as not-so-familiar names, including, he saw uncomfortably, his own. Then he glanced at the page next to it, which was headed _In Remembrance_ and included another long list of names, headed by Albus Dumbledore.

About halfway down the list was a name that had been underlined three times. Remus read the entry, then reread it:

_Sirius Black – Harry Potter's mystery of a godfather and prior Azkaban prisoner, although his crime has been officially pardoned by the Ministry. His death on June 18__th__ will be remembered by those close to him. The headstone and memorial site of Sirius Black is located in Godric's Hollow, next to the graves of James and Lily Potter._

The date had also been underlined three times.

Remus stared at the pen strokes as if they would somehow come alive and offer some sort of explanation to him.

_What the hell, Harry?_

What was the point of reiterating Sirius's date of death to him? Did he think he'd _forgotten_? That was like saying Teddy was not going to be a Quidditch fanatic when he grew up. In other words: impossible.

Determined, he stood and went over to the fireplace, almost upending the dish of floo powder in his haste. Throwing it into the fire, he shouted, "12 Grimmauld Place!" And stepped into the green fire.

Only to be thrown back out on his arse, skidding across his own kitchen floor.

He stared in disbelief.

_I've been blocked._

He didn't bother to try Apparating, his guts telling him that the attempt would only return more negative results. He picked himself up slowly, unaware that the kitchen floor was now covered in black soot.

_What in the world is going on?_

###

The Burrow was abuzz with activity. From the outside, the windows were aglow with warm yellow light and Celestina Warbeck's warbling voice could be heard for miles. In the kitchen, Molly Weasley had outdone herself in setting out a lavish family feast, and the dining table was so packed with food that Harry was sure there were plates of food on top of other plates of food on top of other plates. A food fight seemed to him inevitable. Above the dining table hung a banner in careful wand-scripted calligraphy that read: SCHOOL IS OVER! And underneath, hand-printed, was the words: FOR EVERYONE!

Ginny was at the center of attention, laughing and chatting with her brothers. Harry had just managed to squeeze out of the crowd and settle himself on a couch in the dining room. He was already plotting his excuse to leave early so he could go back to Grimmauld Place and spend some time with Sirius before his godfather went to bed – he seemed to be doing that earlier and earlier now.

Finally managing to squeeze herself out from between her family members, Ginny flopped onto the couch and immediately snuggled up close to him. "Hey," she said, her face so close he could see every freckle on her cheek.

"Hi," he replied, smiling, and hated that he was still so awkward at this stage in their relationship. Ginny leaned over and gave him a quick kiss.

"I'm sorry to make you sit through all this chaos."

Harry laughed lightly and tried to ease any tension away so it didn't show on his face. "Are you kidding? I'm used to it by now."

"Still," she pressed. "It'll be nice to be able to go and spend some time at your place. When should I come?"

_Damn. _He'd hoped she'd forgotten. "Erm, yeah, about that—the thing is, I've started renovating again. Proper renovation, like, the Muggle way. It's a bit inconvenient for you to stay."

Her eyes were sharp and he did his best to meet her gaze. "You're renovating?"

"Yes." He was a bad liar and he knew it. The guilt that was now layering itself on top of the lie didn't help much either.

Ginny studied him for a few more seconds, then looked away. "I'm not a child, you know, Harry."

Before he could ask her what _that _meant, Hermione came over, an intent look on her face that told Harry she wanted to discuss something serious.

"Ginny, mind if I borrow Harry for a moment?"

His girlfriend shrugged and left without giving him another glance.

_I'm going to have to deal with that later._

"What's up, Hermione?" He asked tiredly.

She looked at him sharply, much like the way Ginny had when he'd lied to her earlier. _Women_, he thought viciously, _why are they always trying to see everything?_

Hermione looked like she wanted to make a comment, then changed her mind. "Have you noticed the date?" She asked instead.

_Oh, not this again. _"I told you, Hermione, just give me one month to actually spend some time—"

"_No_, not that," she snapped. "I'm not talking about the twenty-second. I meant today is the seventeenth."

As his mind registered this, some part of his brain seemed to be sending warning signals, trying to tell him something he should already know, but he couldn't quite get the meaning. "So?"

She gave him a disbelieving look. "Harry. You can't be as oblivious as that."

_Today is the seventeenth. Did I miss someone's birthday? No, don't think so__…__ Ron's in March, Hermione's in September, Ginny's in August__…__ Seventeenth, seventeenth__…__ June seventeenth__…__ tomorrow's the eighteenth__…_

_Oh._

Harry's eyes widened as the realization hit and he grabbed Hermione's arm hard. "It's Sirius's anniversary!"

"I knew you'd get there in the end," said Hermione wryly.

How could he have forgotten? Harry mentally slapped himself on the brain. "No wonder he's been acting so odd lately!" And then another thought came slamming into him and he dug his nails into Hermione's arm. "You don't think… that he's somehow going to die again?"

"_Ow_, Harry…" She pried away his fingers gently, a small frown on her face. "I… I'm not sure. But I don't think so. I did think about the possibility, but it seems unlikely. If he's been sent back intentionally, then there's no point in having him die again on the exact same day, especially since he hasn't done a thing since he's returned."

Relieved, Harry fell back against the cushions of the couch.

"Harry, I was just telling you to remind you to be nice to him."

Indignant now, Harry shot back up. "I'm always nice to him! He's my godfather!"

"I _meant_," said Hermione in a long-suffering tone, "to be more careful about what you say around him tomorrow. He already seems more down than usual, we don't know what he'll feel like tomorrow. So be sensitive. Tactful, you know? It's not exactly something you or Ron excel at."

He had to acknowledge this. "Yeah, yeah, all right. It's a good thing you reminded me."

"I know." She gave him a knowing look. "Now go make it up to Ginny."

He went, wondering how much of a good thing it was that women always seemed to know everything.

###

_They were lying on their backs close together on the grass next to the lake, having managed to sneak out of the dorms without James or Peter noticing. Above them, the stars glowed, tiny mini explosions that happened light years ago, gleaming against the black night sky._

_The line jumped into Remus's head and was out of his mouth before he could stop it. "Look me in the stars," he murmured._

"_What?" Beside him, Sirius has been busy sending sparks up into the sky with his wand._

"_What are you doing?"_

"_I want to see if I can hit one of the stars."_

"_You idiot." Remus smiled fondly. They were quiet for a moment, then: "It's from a poem."_

"_A poem?"_

"_Shorter than a novel, generally following a set structure or rhyme?"_

_He grinned when he felt Sirius's playful slap on his shoulder. "I know what a poem is!"_

"_Thought you didn't."_

"_Git."_

_And Remus quoted quietly:_

"_A voice said, Look me in the stars,  
And tell me truly, men of earth,  
If all the soul-and-body scars,  
Were not too much to pay for birth."_

_For a moment, all he could hear was the lapping of the water in the lake. "It's by a guy called Robert Frost," he added, now feeling completely embarrassed. He decided to try and change the subject. "Did you know Lily finally said yes to Prongs today?"_

"_Of course. It's all over school, no one can believe it," Sirius said, but his mind was far from distracted. "A Muggle poet?" He asked._

"_Yeah."_

_He was silent for a minute, looking thoughtful. "No," he said finally, decisively._

_Startled, Remus glanced at him. "No what?"_

"_No, it's not too much to pay for birth," Sirius replied. He leaned over and presses a soft kiss to Remus's lips. "I wouldn't care if I had all the scars in the world, soul or body or otherwise, Moony, as long as you're mine."_

_That was the moment that Remus knew he had fallen irretrievably, irrefutably in love with Sirius Black._

This time when Remus woke up, he felt a sense of doom wash over him even before he even opened his eyes, knowing what would greet him. He tried to force himself back into unconsciousness but knew it would be useless. One eye cracked open involuntarily and stared straight at the calendar hanging on the wall directly in front of him, the numbers on it big and black, mocking him quietly.

It was finally June 18th.

* * *

**Sirius's date of death, according to the majority of the ambiguous internet population, is June 18th, so that's what I've gone with here (and that's what I was hinting at the last chapter!). However, as my lovely reader Resevius has kindly pointed out to me, Sirius died on a Thursday, and in the real world that would actually have been June 20th in 1996. It's just two days' difference so I'm overlooking it here, but for the more picky readers I just wanted to show that I am aware of this, and June 18th is intentional.**

**And so, the stage is set! Exciting times to come in the next couple of chapters. Having said that, the next chapter may be a while as I'm going overseas for a week where internet access is dubious and family obligations unavoidable. Stay tuned, though, and reviewers get chocolate. (No, okay, you don't, but you do get my heartfelt gratitude and happy vibes sent your way.)**


	6. Dead Anniversaries

**A/N: This chapter is not fully edited, but I thought it was better to update sooner than later! So, sorry if there's any grammar mistakes/typos you pick up on, I'll be coming back and fixing those little things later. If you don't mind about those, though, then read on, it's starting to get exciting now.**

* * *

June 18th turned out to be a typical London day: wet and grey with a rainy drizzle. It was practically screaming melancholy. Remus stood by the sink in the kitchen, a pot of coffee in hand, staring out the window at the cloudy sky. He had been standing in the same position for the last half an hour.

Tonks came into the kitchen with Teddy balanced on her hip. Her hair today was a shade of very dark brown, almost black, with pale blond streaks. Her face carried a determinedly cheerful expression.

She walked over to the stove and set down a pan with one hand. Then clearing her throat, she said lightly, "Look at Daddy, Teddy! He's all lost in thought today."

Teddy burbled, curled a hand around his mother's hair and gave it a pull.

"Hey!" Tonks unwound the tiny fist gently. She glanced over at Remus, who appeared to have missed the entire scene. "Remus." She said.

No answer.

"_Remus_."

"Huh?" He half turned in her direction, looking genuinely surprised to see her standing there. "Oh, hey. Morning. Coffee?" He held up the pot.

Tonks reached a hand over and felt the glass. "It's all cold now," she said. "When did you make this?"

"Er," Remus stared at the black liquid swirling inside the pot as if the time was imprinted upon it. "A while ago."

"Obviously." Tonks took a deep breath, her nostrils flaring. Remus could see the effort she was putting into her smile. "Look, why don't you take Teddy, and I'll brew another pot of coffee and make some pancakes?"

He gave her a weak smile. "That sounds great."

Scooping Teddy from Tonks and balancing him with one arm, Remus carried his son over to the table, bouncing him absentmindedly. June 18th was always a day wrapped in a blanket of surrealism; he could himself through it if he didn't allow himself to think too much. Or feel.

Tonks was whipping up a pancake mixture with particular vigour. Splashes of pancake mixture were being splattered onto the sides of the kitchen walls, but she didn't seem to notice. Turning on the gas under one of the stoves and setting the pan on top of it, she glanced over at Remus. "What time are you going today?"

He settled Teddy on his lap and pressed a kiss on top of his head. "After breakfast."

"So soon?"

Remus shrugged.

Last year, he had woken up at dawn and spent the entire day at Gothic's Hollow, only coming home at midnight. He hadn't been quite certain how the time had passed—it had rained at some point, because his clothes and hair were soaking when he'd gotten home—otherwise he could not remember doing anything specific. Time had simply passed him by. He felt that going after breakfast this year was already a marginal improvement. _I'm moving on. Slowly but surely._

Tonks was flipping pancakes when she turned to him with that look on her face—that look, he knew, which meant she was preparing to ask a question she felt sure would be rejected but considered it her duty to ask anyway: "Would you like me to come with you?"

He shook his head briefly. Several seconds passed. "Thanks, though." He added, belatedly.

"Well, I have meetings all day anyway." She slid three pancakes from the pan straight into a plate. "I really have to go now, actually."

He looked up. "What about breakfast?"

"You eat it. I'm not that hungry. Coffee should be ready any moment." She swept around him, picking up her handbag from the chair beside him, adjusting her hair in the small square mirror hanging on the wall. Then she leaned over to Teddy and gave him a kiss. "Bye-bye, Teddy. Mommy's going to work." She turned to leave and was halfway out the kitchen door before she paused and turned around. Remus still had his back to her, bent over his son, but he heard her murmured words loud and clear: "Don't be too hard on yourself, all right?" And then she was gone.

Five seconds later, the coffee was ready.

###

"D'you want some more coffee?"

Silence, except for the impatient tapping of a foot.

"Sirius, coffee?"

_Tap-tap-tap-tap._

"_Sirius!_"

"Wha—?" Sirius jerked upright, blinking, focusing his eyes on Harry.

Harry stared, eyes narrowed, as his godfather jolted out of whatever daydream he had managed to become completely lost in. Sirius had been doing that more and more lately, but today he was completely out of it. Hermione had dropped him a warning at the crack of dawn this morning through one of the Ministry owls which had almost pecked his eye out waking him up.

_Harry – remember, go easy on him. It will probably be a hard day for him._

He had reminded himself to never sleep with the window open again, then hastily scribbled back a note to tell Hermione that apart from the world of Hermione-standards, 5:26am was actually not a human time to start work or to send owls, particularly if it was a redundant message. They had had an entire conversation yesterday night that consisted of Hermione reiterating the exact same point at Ginny's welcome back party, and after he and Ginny had made up over their fight she had repeated the point over and over to him for what felt like several hours. He didn't need another reminder.

With the message fresh in his mind, though, he beamed at his godfather and waved the coffee pot in the air, sloshing coffee up the sides. "More coffee?"

Sirius stared at him for a moment like he wasn't quite sure what he was doing here. Then he seemed to snap himself out of it and pushed his mug across the table, muttering, "Thanks, Harry."

Harry poured the coffee, wracking his mind as to how to best approach the dreaded topic.

He tossed opening sentences in his mind and rejected them all, scowling at himself. He was terrible at these things. Then again, who was good at talking to a supposed-to-be-dead person about the day they died?

He was so busy thinking that he didn't notice warm liquid was running through his fingers until he heard Sirius shout, "Harry! Stop!"

Harry looked down, startled, and realized he'd overfilled the mug. He tilted the pot upright immediately, feeling sheepish. "Whoops." He said, staring at the coffee dripping from his fingers.

Sirius passed over a stack of paper napkins. "You seem to be somewhere else today."

_So do you_, he almost said, but swallowed it just in time. Instead, what came rushing out of his mouth was: "Are you okay?" He regretted it the moment he said it.

Sirius looked amused, a little smile danced on his face. "You pour coffee over your hands and you ask me if _I'm_ okay?"

He pressed the napkins to the spilt coffee, watching the brown color seep through, cursing himself. "I just meant…" He trailed off and sighed. Then in a wave of inspiration, he decided to use Hermione's tactic. "Have you noticed the date?" He asked, echoing her words to him last night at the party.

His godfather's smile slipped. He pulled the over filled cup of coffee towards himself, leaving a wet trail behind, and took a cautious sip. "Yes." He said finally.

He didn't say anything else.

Slightly frustrated, Harry left the wad of wet paper napkins on the table and reached behind him into the kitchen cupboard for another mug. Pouring himself some coffee, he settled into the seat opposite Sirius. "So, are you okay?" He repeated.

Sirius sighed. "I don't know, Harry. What does one say on the anniversary of their own death if they're alive?"

_Fair point._ "Well, if you want any company today, I'd be happy to leave work early," he offered. "If there's anywhere you want to go…"

His godfather stiffened, but relaxed so quickly Harry thought he had imagined it. "No. Thanks, though, Harry. I don't want you to miss your training for me."

Feeling slightly lost, Harry stared down at his coffee. They both sat in silence at the table, one in frustrated puzzlement, the other in concentrated thoughtfulness.

There was a sudden chirping as the old grandfather clock in the hall struck 7.30.

Harry pushed aside his cup and stood awkwardly. "Um, I have to…" He waved a hand vaguely towards the front door.

Sirius stood as well, and Harry did a double take at the transformation. Sirius suddenly looked twenty years ago, his eyes bright as though he had suddenly figured out the answer to a difficult arithmancy problem, and he gave Harry such a beaming smile that Harry couldn't help but smile back in return. "Don't worry about me, Harry," his godfather said cheerfully, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "I'll be fine."

Harry left five minutes later after several more repeated reassurances from Sirius. He couldn't understand it. The cloud seemed to have suddenly lifted from Sirius's head, he looked remarkably alert.

It didn't make Harry feel any better. In fact, it roused such a strong feeling of suspicion in him that he actually turned to double check he wasn't hallucinating.

Harry hadn't lived through the second war without learning how to at least marginally read people. Hermione was undeniably better at it, but he was improving. And in this case, because Sirius was possibly even less subtle than Ron in his expressions, it was clear as crystal.

Sirius was up to something.

###

It was freezing.

Remus could never figure out why cemeteries were always colder than everywhere else. Was it all those dead bodies in their graves affecting the weather? Controlling it somehow? Taking out their revenge on humankind by making their resting place permanently cold?

He glanced at his watch and blinked in surprise. It was already six in the evening. Just like last year, the time seemed to have vanished, slipped away from him without effort. He looked around and only realized then that the sky had become progressively dimmer, the headstones of the graves casting long shadows across the grass. He could just see the sliver of the moon and the pallid shine of stars against a slowly darkening sky.

He looked back down at the headstone he was kneeling in front of and sighed.

SIRIUS BLACK  
1959 – 1996  
_Marauder Forever._

_Look me in the stars._

Sirius had asked for his epitaph, made Remus promise that that would be what his headstone would say. Remus had added the last line in himself. He had thought Sirius wouldn't mind.

Two years. It was finally two years. There was a point in time when Remus was sure he would never be alive at this point. That he couldn't live without _him_.

Neither of them had, after all, expected to live through the war. They'd spent their time together in Grimmauld Place fantasizing about what their life would be like together after the war, just because it seemed so out of reach, so surreal, an unreachable goal, that they could do it with the pure enjoyment of two people who had accepted their fate. Sirius talked about eloping. Moving to a different continent. Starting a new life together. Remus dreamed of developing Wolfsbane. Of curing lycanthropy. Spending the rest of his life with the man he loved.

The problem with humans, Remus thought bitterly, is that dreams can't never be just that: dreams. There had to be _emotions _attached. No one could dream without hope. And the feeling had creeped in slowly through the cracks, filling him inside, until he allowed himself a minute thought that there was actually a _slight _possibility of any of it happening.

And then Sirius had fallen through the Veil.

Remus closed his eyes, realizing his cheeks were wet. He felt light droplets fall on his skin and the rational mind of his brain concluded it was raining. Raising a hand, he wiped his cheeks. He couldn't tell if they were wet from rain or tears.

He took a deep breath, letting the fresh air stimulate him. He should, really, try to get home earlier. Perhaps surprise Tonks for once. It would be a nice gesture.

He needed to move on.

Making up his mind, he got to his feet. He glanced around him one last time, preparing to Apparate, when he froze, eyes fixed on a shape a little ways in the distance.

It was a dog. A large dog. A large _black _dog.

_The Grim _flashed through Remus's mind, and all at once a memory washed over it like a tidal wave, hard and fast, unstoppable:

"_Sirius! You did it!" James's delighted voice cut through the air and Remus whipped open the curtains around his bed in the Gryffindor dorms. Seeing him, James grinned and pointed. "Look, Moony!"_

_Remus stared. He could feel horror building in his chest. "It's the Grim!" He squeaked, and prepared to make a run for it._

_James doubled over in peals of laughter. "Moony! You're priceless," he gasped. "Sirius, show him!"_

_And before Remus's astonished eyes, the large furry black dog sitting on the floor in front of James suddenly morphed into the very familiar shape of Sirius Black, who was grinning at him. "I did it, Remus!" He cried. "I'm an Animagus!"_

Staring at the black dog in front of him now, Remus could hear Sirius's words echo back in his mind: _"I did it, Remus!" "I'm an Animagus!"_

The resemblance was such that there could be no mistake. How many times had he seen Sirius change form? How many times did he run his fingers through that silky black hair?

Yet it wasn't _possible._

Remus was glued to the spot. The dog, standing a little distance away from him, seemed equally immobile, its round black eyes staring directly at Remus. Remus could have sworn there was an intelligence in the dog's stare.

He didn't know how long they stood there for, gazing at each other, man and dog. It was probably just for a few seconds, but felt like hours. Then, just as abruptly as it appeared, the black dog turned and trotted away, picking up speed as it left until it was a black blur running into the horizon.

It took him a few moments to remember how his limbs functioned. Then he took to his heels and ran after it – but by then, the dog had long gone.

###

"You went _where_?!"

Sirius shook the rain out of his hair and slumped onto the couch, barely hearing Hermione's accusing screeches. His heart was pounding like he had just run a full length marathon. _He had seen him. Finally._

"Have you gone _insane?_ You went, tonight of all nights, to _Godric's Hollow_? You realize there was a very high possibility of Death Eaters being there? Or even other creatures, like werewolves?"

"Werewolves are human," Sirius said automatically, still staring at the carpet in a daze.

"I didn't mean—_god_, Harry, you talk to him!" Hermione pulled at her hair till the strands were straight, eyes bulging, turning to appeal to her best friend who was leaning against the fireplace. "Don't you know how dangerous it would be for you if you were caught?"

"She's right," Harry said, but there was something else in his voice aside from admonishment, and Hermione turned sharply, catching it: empathy. And just a bit of relief.

"Did he recognize you?" Ron asked, from where he was sitting crouched by the fire. He and Hermione had been snuggled together just ten minutes ago before Sirius burst into the house, scaring the wits out of the three of them, dripping wet, with the biggest smile on his face.

Sirius looked up then, tuning into the conversation for real. "I don't know," he said slowly. "I—I only saw him for a few seconds. I think."

"Oh dear god," Hermione moaned. "Remus has probably called the Aurors by now—"

"He won't," Harry interrupted. The firmness in his voice made Hermione spin around to face him, surprised. "I know him. He won't."

Her gaze was penetrating but Harry held it, unwavering. Hermione seemed to be searching for a particular answer. She blinked twice, opened her mouth, shut it, then opened it again. "What'll he do then?"

Both Harry and Sirius knew that wasn't what she had been going to say, but neither of them commented. Surprisingly, it was Ron who answered.

"Well, if I know Lupin at all, he'd probably come looking for him, just to make sure."

Now both Harry and Hermione turned, astonishment written across their faces. "Ron," said Hermione, in a voice full of wonderment, "I do believe you're right."

"Always the tone of surprise," Ron scoffed, cheeks tinged with two spots of pale pink that clashed with his hair.

###

It was killing him.

The more Remus thought about it, the less it made sense.

Sirius was _dead_. It had taken him two years to come to term with that, and he still had a long way to go, but he knew that for sure: Sirius wasn't alive.

But that dog. He could have sworn it looked exactly like Sirius's Animagus form.

Although of course that wasn't possible.

He considered, briefly, the possibility that it was just a coincidence. A stray that wandered into the cemetery. It wasn't completely unheard of.

But on the night of June 18th?

He wondered if it was a Death Eater, or Death Eater supporter who was doing this as some form of twisted torture. Or perhaps he was sent to kill him but lost his nerve. It had to be something like that, or else…

The alternative was too hard to think about. He _couldn't_ think about it. It might give him hope, and that was one thing he had learned to give up long ago in this case.

The incident nagged at him day and night for four days. Then, when he finally couldn't take it anymore, he made a decision.

Grabbing his house keys, he made sure Teddy was with his grandmother and then left the house, flagged down a cab and headed for the one place where he felt sure he would find at least some of the answers he was looking for.

It was about time someone made the first move.

"Number 12, Grimmauld Place." He said to the cab driver, and braced himself for the ride.

* * *

**Oooh, I do like cliffhangers...**

**Review, everyone!**


	7. Defying Reason

**A/N:** **Rating's gone up for a bit of swearing, just to be safe.**

**And without further ado, what you've all been waiting for...**

* * *

As a rule, Remus didn't like cabs – he preferred to drive. But he had never recovered his Muggle drivers' license since the first war, hadn't really needed to, considering the methods of instant transport magic provided. But with Harry's recent new restrictions on his house, he thought it was better to be on the safe side and do it the Muggle way.

He got out of the cab, paid the driver with the little Muggle money he had with him, and jogged quickly up the front steps to avoid getting hit by the rain. He raised his hand, poised over the buzzer, and was hit by a moment of panicked uncertainty. _Breathe_, he told himself. As he suited the action to the thought, his heightened werewolf senses kicked into gear and he stiffened immediately.

_He was there. _Remus knew beyond certainty that he was there.

He didn't know how it was possible, and he didn't know why. But the scent was unmistakable. A mingling of fresh grass and black coffee and cigarettes that came together unmistakably as what both Remus and his wolf side knew as _Sirius-scent_.

_I can't do this. _Remus whirled around, heart thudding, and half slipped, half ran back down the steps. At the bottom, he paused again, breathing hard.

_You're already here, _the rational part of his mind argued.

He turned back towards the front door, then turned away again. Passer-bys, sheltered under shiny big black umbrellas, cast him vaguely curious looks as they walked past, kicking up droplets of rain from dirty puddles that splashed onto his shoes.

It couldn't be true. He would just walk up to the front door, ring the buzzer, talk to Harry, who would tell him he was crazy. And then he could go home happy.

_What if... it was true?_

The sensation of emotions that rose up inside him at that thought alone made him grab at the low bricked wall that lined the pavement. He fought it all down again.

_It can't be._

_But the scent..._

_To be or not to be? _He thought a little wildly. His mind felt like it was doing battle. He sank down onto the bottom step, oblivious to the drizzle now soaking into his hair and clothes, and buried his face in his hands.

###

From the gap in the curtains of the living room window, Harry stood watching as Remus paced, turned, then finally sat down on the front steps of his house.

He was actually quite surprised. The man had managed to hold out for four days, a testament to his self-control, before finally coming here. He had also been a little amused by the cab ride—he had unblocked Remus's name from his Floo network and Apparation, anticipating his arrival (he still felt a little guilty about setting up the block in the first place, it had been, as usual, Hermione's idea - it had seemed better to be on the safe side at the time). But it looked like the man hadn't even tried to reach the house by magic. He wondered if Remus had been intentionally stalling.

There was a muffled yell of _ow, bloody Merlin, ow _from the direction of the kitchen. Sirius was inside attempting, for once, to cook a proper dinner. Harry understood it as an attempt on his godfather's part at redemption, to make up for the half-alive state he'd been in for the past week. Immediately sensing that nothing good could possibly come out of his experiment, Harry had smiled weakly and asked what Sirius was thinking of cooking. He had heard Sirius's uncertain mumble about roast chicken and potatoes before he'd nodded, left the room, picked up the phone and ordered a large pizza. He had to have at least _something _edible to eat tonight.

He hadn't discussed Remus at all with Sirius since he'd found out his godfather had visited his own grave four days ago and bumped into the man. Sirius had been adamantly silent on the subject for the past few days, refusing to be lured into even mentioning Remus's name at all. The entire cat and mouse dance was doing nothing but give Harry a massive headache. He was beginning to think it was a mistake to have kept this a secret from Remus for so long. Or at all, really.

He peeked out again at the hunched figure sitting on his doorstep. He could practically see the internal struggle vibrating off him in waves.

_Come on. He's here, come _on_!_

He breathed sharply as he saw Remus finally stand, then his heart sank as he watched him turn and slowly walk away from the front door.

He wasn't quite sure if he could take another day of the silent conflict going on with the two of them. He needed them to meet, get it over with, if just for the sake of his sanity.

Remus had all but faded into the distance now. Harry turned frantically, searching for an umbrella.

_Where are all the bloody umbrellas when you need one?_

Giving up, he leapt over the couch and ran towards the front door, pulling on his coat as he went.

_Sirius, you're going to owe me for this_, he thought as he yanked open the door, then stumbled back in surprise.

Remus stood on the doorstep, one hand just above the buzzer, breathing hard, a startled look on his face.

"You came back." Harry almost collapsed onto the floor with relief.

Remus cast him an odd, slightly unfocused, look. "Excuse me?" He said, sounding slightly out of breath. His eyebrows furrowed as he took in Harry's statement. "Were you _watching _me?"

"Er," said Harry sheepishly, "no?"

He watched Remus take a deep breath, and a slightly disconcerted look came over his face. He couldn't even have began to imagine how the man must be feeling at the moment. Actually, Remus probably wanted to kill him. Harry couldn't blame him.

Remus gazed over Harry's shoulder down the corridor then turned back to him. When he spoke again, he sounded calm, collected, the opposite of the struggling man on Harry's front steps just a few seconds ago.

"Where is he?"

###

He met Harry's gaze evenly.

"Where is he?"

There was a brief flash of confusion on Harry's face before it morphed into resigned understanding. "Werewolf senses. Right. I'm sorry, Remus, really I am. He didn't want you to know yet—"

"_Where is he?_"

Harry stepped aside and motioned with his right hand down the hall. "Should be in the kitchen."

Remus headed down the hall like he was in a dream. It was only when he threw open the kitchen door gasping for breath that he realized he had ran. Damn house. He'd forgotten how big it was.

He saw him at once. Everything else seemed to fade into a fuzzy background the moment his eyes zeroed in on the lone figure in the kitchen. Sirius had his back to him and was bent over the oven, mumbling what sounded like creative cooking curses under his breath. Remus had the brief hysterical thought flash through his mind that he should be really be enjoying the view. Then the rational side of his brain took over.

"Sirius."

It came out as a whisper.

The other man froze in his position for so long that Remus wondered if he had accidentally cast a spell on him. Then slowly, Sirius straightened up, turned around and met Remus's eyes. Remus felt his breathing catch.

It was like a punch in the guts, like standing on top of the world, like getting held underwater, like winning a marathon. All at once.

Sirius opened his mouth to say something but his mouth seemed too dry to speak. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Remus," he croaked. "I—I'm—"

"_How_." This came from Remus, and it wasn't a question. He was proud of how steady his voice was.

Sirius swallowed. "I—I'm not—that is, we're still trying to—to—"

"You died."

"I—yes, I did, I know, but—"

"You _died_. You fell through the Veil. I was there. I fucking saw it."

"Remus—"

Remus exploded. "No, I was fucking _there_!"

There was a pause. Remus had no idea where the anger had come from; it seemed to have been stored somewhere inside him for years now, just waiting for the right time to spill out and let go. It was like the pressure inside a pressure can and someone had pressed the nozzle. All he knew was that he felt more furious now that he could remember feeling at any other time in his life.

But even through his anger, he found his eyes roaming all over Sirius, drinking the sight of him in. He seemed thinner, more fragile somehow, his hair longer and messier, but black as ever. He was wearing a pair of frayed black jeans that looked slightly familiar.

The realization dawned on Remus slowly, emerging as faded images in his mind. They were the same pair of jeans he'd seen the last time he'd Firecalled Harry.

The implication of this hit him like a bullet.

For a long while, the two once-infamous Marauders of Hogwarts simply stared at each other from opposite sides of the Grimmauld Place kitchen. The kitchen which ordinarily appeared to be the size of a half a football field suddenly seemed cramped and airless.

Remus took a deep breath, once again put off-balance as his sense were hit by the achingly familiar scent. Fighting to keep his voice at a steady level, he asked, ignoring the slight tremor in his voice, "How long?"

It took Sirius a moment to process this. "W-what?"

"How _long_?" It took him a moment to realize he had yelled. His arms ached. He looked down and realized that his fists were clenched.

Sirius seemed to have lost his power of speech entirely. He simply stared at Remus, eyes wide, chest heaving.

It was Harry who finally answered; Remus hadn't even noticed him entering the kitchen. "About a month, Remus. I'm sorry. We should have told you—"

_A month. He's been alive for a month._

Remus started backtracking slowly. He appeared to have had come to some sort of a silent conclusion. "You're not real."

Somewhere in the background, his hyper alert senses caught the smell of something burning, but he pushed it away, along with everything else his mind was trying to convince him of.

Sirius finally seemed to recover enough to string together a coherent sentence. He took a shaky step forward. "I am. I'm very real. I'm alive, Remus. I'm not sure how and I really can't tell you why, if there's a reason for it at all, all I can tell you is that I _am_."

"It really is him, Remus." Harry was looking anxious, running his fingers through his hair, exposing his fading scar. Remus realized just how young Harry was at that moment. He looked like a lost little boy.

Little boy. He had a little boy of his own. _Teddy. _His family.

By now, Remus had backed out of the kitchen and was heading steadily towards the front door, almost tripping over his own feet.

Fighting down panic that was rising in him like a tidal wave, Sirius shouted, "Wait, Remus!" And chased after him with Harry on his heels. In any other circumstance it would have almost seemed comical. "Moony!"

It was the nickname that did it. Old, familiar and long underused. Harry watched Remus's ashen face pale even further as his expression changed from terror to disbelief to shock, and then a flash of pain was etched clearly on his features before he turned on the spot and disappeared.

Sirius crumbled into a heap on the floor. Harry stared miserably at his godfather, then looked back towards the kitchen, where drifts of smoke was coming from the oven.

Dinner was ruined.

* * *

**OK, I was really nervous posting this chapter, in fear of disappointing people! If you imagined it very differently I'd love to hear your views, but this is how it played out in my head. Possibly a bit more angst-ridden than I expected. And I'm sorry this chapter is on the short side, I'm about to get on a plane to go back to the real world (i.e. uni and my job), and I wanted to get their reunion out before I have all that extra pressure weighing on me. Next chapter will be longer, there will indeed be more angst, but I promise these two will start to work things out again. Just as soon as Remus calms down a bit.**

**Reviews feed my muse!**


	8. Surrendering Fears

**A/N: Updates will be coming a bit more sparingly since I have actual work to do now. But knowing my procrastination habits, probably not that sparingly.**

**And so we actually have (a bit) of plot development here! Thank you to all my wonderful reviewers, I'm glad the reunion didn't disappoint. Here, I think, is my longest chapter yet.**

* * *

"Give him some time, Sirius."

"Remember, you've had a month to get used to being alive. Remus just found out."

"It would have come as quite a shock to him, mate."

A distinctly feminine snort. "Understatement of the year, Ronald."

Harry could see that none of what he, Ron and Hermione was saying was helping much at all. Sirius had paced the length of the living room at least ten times over, and the agitated expression on his face hadn't faded even a little.

"You're going to wear a hole in the carpet soon, Sirius," he said, attempting to lighten the atmosphere.

The silence that greeted his statement told him he had failed.

He watched his godfather continue his pacing, trying not to let the anxiety show on his face. He couldn't really blame Remus for his reaction. It had been three hours since he had Disapparated from his house; Harry had no idea where he'd gone – Tonks had sent her Patronus asking whether Harry knew where he was, which meant he hadn't gone home. He was beginning to get worried.

There was also something strange about Tonks's Patronus that he hadn't been able to put his finger on. It had appeared when he was alone in the kitchen, attempting to fix some food for everyone, and he was glad about that—he wasn't sure how Sirius would react to it if he had heard. He hadn't sent a reply back.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione frantically waving a hand to get his attention. He frowned at her, directed his eyes towards Sirius, back at her, then shook his head, hoping she understood his point. In response, Hermione simply gestured even more urgently, hand flapping back and forth so fast it blurred. Harry gave her a look of supreme irritation that was distinctly Hermione-esque in itself, sidestepped Sirius, and went to lean on the wall next to Hermione. "_What_?" He hissed, more snarkily than he intended.

She didn't look ruffled at all. "The date."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake Hermione, I'm not going to play this guessing game with you again—"

She rolled her eyes and spoke right over him. "It's the twenty-second, Harry," she said, "you said we'd visit Minerva, remember?"

That stopped him momentarily. He rewound his mind back a few days. Yes, he had said that. He had to stop himself from scowling like a kid who had just been told he couldn't have any more chocolate. _You're bringing this up _now_?_

He shifted his weight on his feet and didn't bother to conceal the whine in his voice. "D'you really think now's the best time?" He whispered.

Hermione gave him her best _I know what you're doing _look, inclining her head and narrowing her eyes. She lowered her voice as well. "Harry, we have to do it sometime. I haven't been able to find out any useful bit of information at all, and as much as you'd like to think this is some omnipotent gracious spirit giving Sirius a second chance at life, I really don't think that's the case and I know you know it too. There's something going on here and we should find out what it is before it sneaks up on us and bites us on the arse. And as much as I hate to admit it, we need help."

Harry took the opportunity as Hermione paused for air to hastily interrupt: "Okay, okay, fine."

Looking satisfied, Hermione turned and began putting on her coat.

Harry blinked. "Wait, you want to go _now_?"

"Why not?" Hermione cast a glance over her shoulder at Sirius, then looked back at him, one eyebrow raised. "I don't think us staying here is doing anything productive. He's going to be doing that for a while."

It irritated him that she chose the worst times to be observant. "Yes, but, shouldn't one of us stay here to—"

"Ron will be here," Hermione said airily. She looked down at Ron, who had fallen asleep on the couch, and gave him a sharp nudge with her elbow. "Right, Ron?"

"Nnngh?" was the mumbled response.

"I _said_, you'll take care of Sirius when he calms down a bit?"

"Oh," said Ron, blinking blearily, "yeah, 'course."

"Tell Harry not to worry."

"Don't worry about it, mate," Ron said obediently. "Go and talk to McGonagall."

Clearly, they had already talked about this beforehand.

Feeling like this day wasn't going at all well, and that Ron's response wasn't exactly the reassuring one he had been looking for, Harry picked up his coat with a great show of reluctance.

"Oh for God's sake, Harry," Hermione snipped. Raising her voice, she called to Sirius, "Hey, Sirius? Harry and I are just going to pop out for a bit, is that alright?"

There was no response.

"He didn't hear you."

"My point exactly," Hermione said dryly.

And so, feeling outnumbered, and with Hermione dragging on his coat sleeve, Harry resignedly turned on the spot and Disapparated.

###

Remus didn't know why he was here.

He was leaning against the thick trunk of an old oak tree that overlooked the Hogwarts lake. Around him, the familiar sights of his old school brought back more nostalgic memories than he liked, and touched at old feelings that he had put extreme effort into burying. But somehow, in the middle of the confusion, the hurt, the shock that had happened a few hours ago, Hogwarts was the first place he thought of as a safe sanctuary.

No one would think of looking for him here, surely.

He rested his head back against the rough surface of the wood, clenching his fingers around the grass he was sitting on, and let out a loud groan.

Sirius was alive.

It had taken him a good few hours and some violent kicks at the unfortunate pebbles lying around the lake to come to terms with the fact that the sentence was true. He had ran over the scene that had happened at Grimmauld Place countless times, pinching himself so many times his wrist was red and marked with tiny half-moon marks from his fingernails. But he had to accept the fact that he had not only seen Sirius again, but had also talked to him. Physically. In the real world.

It had crossed his mind that the man wasn't actually Sirius but an imposter, someone using Polyjuice Potion, but it didn't seem likely that someone would have found so many of Sirius's hairs to last them a month. Besides, _why_ would someone do it? There was no possible reason that Remus could think of. If it was to get close to Harry and to kill him, it would have happened already. If it was to hurt _him__…_ but he couldn't think of a reason why he would be specifically targeted. And if he was the target, surely the man would have shown himself to him instead of waiting a month.

Really, the one fact that convinced him it was really Sirius was Harry's certainty. _"It really is him, Remus." _He had sounded so _sure_, and the look in his eyes was one of such earnest honesty that Remus couldn't quite bring himself to doubt him.

Which, of course, brought him back to the conclusion he wasn't sure he wanted to be at. That Sirius was alive.

He should be rejoicing. Screaming in happiness. Laughing giddily. He knew that. But all he could think of was the pain, the heartwrenching sorrow that he had been put through when Sirius had died. It seemed such a cruel twist of fate that just when he had begun to accept it, Sirius had come back from the dead.

He wanted to kill him all over again just for putting him through that.

Waves gently rippled across the surface of the lake. As Remus watched, he remembered the night he and Sirius had come and sat just around the place he was sitting now, and watched the stars together. It was the night he had recited Robert Frost's poem to him. He'd felt like the biggest dork in the world, but somehow, Sirius had known the right thing to say. The poem had become a sort of mantra to them afterwards, beyond Hogwarts, beyond Azkaban. It had always been something to hold on to.

His chest contracted painfully as the memory washed over him. If there was one thing that could not happen, it was this. This feeling that was rising up from the depths within himself. It both astonished and irked him that the feelings were still there. He let himself have a moment of emotional clarity.

_I thought I was over you._

But just as quickly as the thought arose, he quashed it back to where it belonged, hidden and untouched for two years. He had a family now. He had Tonks and Teddy.

Remus looked around until he found what he was looking for: a thick branch that had broken off from a tree, possibly from a storm or a harsh wind. It looked strong and sturdy. He got to his feet, stretched, then went over to the branch. He picked it up and weighed it carefully in his hands. It was heavier than expected. Looking up, he could see where it had broken off from, where a pale circular stump showed the place that the branch used to belong. Remus stepped back, holding the heavy branch like a baseball bat, he swung it backwards and smashed it against the nearest tree as hard as he could, letting out an almighty yell.

The branch crumbled into several pieces.

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes. Then, nodding to himself, he returned to the spot he had been sitting at, leaving the smithereens of wood blowing amongst the grass.

###

"There's a Patronus coming."

Sirius glanced over at Ron, who had slid down to the floor and was dozing with his head leaning on the side of the armchair. He watched the silvery mist coming towards him begin to take shape and spoke louder. "_Ron_. Patronus." He accompanied this with a not-so-gentle kick for good measure.

Ron blinked blearily and narrowed his eyes.

The silvery form was twisting and turning. For a brief moment, a solid shape emerged to say briefly in Tonks's voice: "Ron, I can't seem to find Remus. If you know where he is, please let me know." Then the silvery mist disintegrated into thin air.

Sirius stood still, staring at the place where the Patronus had been. He felt exhausted, confused and worried. He recognized Tonks's voice; it was just one more reminder than Remus had moved on from him, had started a new life, one that probably didn't have room for him. It hurt more than he could put into words. This was, however, pushed under the table at the moment by the larger, more important aspect of Tonks's message: that Remus was missing.

He turned back to Ron, who was frowning slightly, eyebrows furrowed, like he was attempting to figure out a complicated Arithmancy equation. He was also staring at the place where the Patronus had been.

"Hey, Ron?"

Ron appeared not to have heard.

Sirius sighed. He liked most of Harry's friends, and having spent so much time with Ron and Hermione in the past month they had inevitably gotten to know each other better, especially Ron and their countless Quidditch-talk sessions. The redhead was warm and friendly, and Sirius acknowledged that his freckles were cute, but he was an oblivious idiot. Even more so than himself.

"Ron!" He said, louder.

Ron turned, saw Sirius staring at him, and abruptly cleared his expression. "Sorry," he said, somewhat sheepishly. "I was just—er—thinking. Um. So what are we going to do?"

"I was just about to ask _you_ that."

"Right."

Sirius let out another impatient breath. He glanced around the room, then up towards the great grandfather clock situated in the corner of the living room. It read 8:14pm. By now, Remus had been missing for most of the day.

He made a snap decision. "I'm going out to look for him." He started towards the front door.

Ron, who had spent the last few hours between sleeping and waking up dazedly to ask Sirius how he was doing before falling back into a doze, barely moving from the couch, reacted to this statement with surprising speed and agility as he leapt into the air and situated himself at the door of the living room in a way that reminded Sirius of the younger man's ambition to be a professional Quidditch player. "You can't do that."

Sirius gave him his most demanding glare. "Remus is _missing_." He said, as if that overruled everything else.

"Yeah, I know, but you can't leave this house. If a wizard or witch recognizes you, you'll be in huge trouble. Hell, _we'll_ be in huge trouble." To make his point, Ron placed one hand on either side of the doorframe in a human barricade.

"I went out four days ago."

"Yeah, bloody _secretly. _And I think we all agreed that was a mistake, didn't we?"

Sirius stared at him sullenly. Ron matched his stare, unwavering.

After two minutes of the staring contest, Sirius threw his hands up and returned to the couch, grumbling, "I hate this."

Ron slowly lowered his arms, flexing his muscles, looking slightly self-conscious. "You and me both, mate."

###

Hogwarts was empty for the holidays, but Harry could see the yellow glow of lights emitting from the windows of the Headmistress's office. He had to hold back a grin as he and Hermione trudged up the familiar stone steps and through the echoing halls. Minerva McGonagall never took a holiday.

Hermione was going over what they would say to Minerva, waving her arms and gesturing enthusiastically. Harry had long tuned her out, choosing instead to focus on the returning welcome sight of his school. They passed multiple portraits, all of which gave them a nod of acknowledgment and a brief smile, and felt a wave of fondness as they strolled past the Gryffindor common room and the Fat Lady brightened at their approach, calling out a cheery, "Hello! Fancy seeing _you_ here."

This was the first place he had felt at home. He remembered it like it was his first year, full of wonder and excitement and anticipation, with an additional tinge of nostalgia that colored all his memories.

"…then we can ease her into it so she doesn't collapse from shock, what do you think? Harry? _Harry!_"

Harry blinked and forced himself back to the present. Hermione was standing in front of him, hands on her hips, a familiar scolding scowl on her face. "Have you been listening to a _word_ I said?"

"Um," said Harry. They were at the bottom of the spiral staircase that led to the Headmistresses' office, and he was quite sure Minerva could hear every word of Hermione's shrill, commanding voice. "No, not really."

Stifled annoyance greeted his statement as Hermione surveyed him.

Fortunately, at that moment the door to the Headmistress's office swung open and Minerva appeared, looking remarkably the same as when she had been Harry's Transfiguration Professor but for a set of new robes, which swished around her in a way that was disturbingly familiar to how Professor Snape's black robes moved around him when he patrolled the halls.

"Why Harry, Hermione," Minerva said, beaming. "It's lovely to see you both. Come in, come in."

The stone gargoyles parted and Harry and Hermione headed up the stairs, smiling. Harry found himself in a warm embrace. "Hello, Minerva. It's good to see you," he said, with sincerity he truly felt.

She smiled, patted him on the back, and turned to hug Hermione before ushering them into her office briskly. Harry felt her returning to her professor-mode.

"And how have you both been?" She asked, giving a quick wave of her wand. Three empty China cups appeared on the desk and began filling themselves to the brim with tea. Harry could see the steam rising from the surface.

"We've been well. And you, Minerva?" He heard Hermione respond.

"As well as I can be, I suppose. I assume this is not just a social visit?"

Harry looked up, startled, meeting Minerva's sharp gaze. He felt himself slowly turning red.

Minerva pushed a small jug of milk and a container of sugar across the table. "While it is lovely to see you both, it's the middle of the holidays, Hogwarts is technically closed, and I assume you both have better things to do at night than visit an old professor."

"Sirius is alive," Harry blurted.

He felt Hermione's glare even before he finished his sentence. That had obviously not been part of the plan.

Minerva looked at him steadily. "I beg your pardon?"

Feeling sheepish, Harry gestured for Hermione to speak, avoiding her gaze.

He heard Hermione take a deep breath. "The thing is, Minerva, there's been a bit of a strange occurrence – Sirius has somehow returned from the Veil. We're not sure how or why this has happened, although I've tried searching in the Ministry library for reasons and ways it might have or any past occurrences, but it's a bit difficult given the restrictions I've got—"

"Are you saying," Minerva interrupted, "that Sirius Black is at this very moment a breathing, living human being?"

"Yes." Harry said quickly, since Hermione looked as though she was prepared to launch into another speech of over-explanation.

"I see." Minerva's gaze swept over both of them before coming to a rest at a spot directly above their heads. She seemed to be waiting for something.

Confused, Harry twisted around and looked up. He was met by the serious face of Albus Dumbledore.

"Hello, Harry. Miss Granger, a pleasure." Albus Dumbledore smiled the familiar dreamy, gentle smile from his portrait, his half moon glasses seemed to twinkle.

"Professor! Sorry, I completely forgot—"

"Oh, I know, I know. Do call me Albus, Harry. You had something important to say, it is natural that you focused on it."

"Albus," Minerva said, with the air of someone taking over a situation, "what do you think this is about?"

The old Headmaster was frowning slightly. "It is—difficult to say. There have been next to nothing on cases of subjects being brought back to life after having fallen through the Veil. It is well understood that what goes through the Veil never returns. For Sirius to have done so is alarmingly strange."

"_See_," Hermione hissed unnecessarily.

Harry, however, had focused on something else of what Albus had said. "_Next_ to nothing?"

Albus beamed at him. "Well done, Harry. Yes. There has been one case in the entire history of wizardkind where a similar experience has happened—but you see, that person was brought back for a specific purpose, and he was not brought back fully alive."

Hermione was looking keenly interested. "You mean he was brought back as a ghost?"

"Not quite a ghost, but not quite human either, he seemed to float in between. But with that case, you see—it took the work of a lot of dark magic."

Harry had the sensation of falling backwards into a very dark, very deep hole.

Minerva had stood up. She looked vaguely alarmed. "Are you saying, Albus, that this is some sort of dark power that's rising up against us?"

"That doesn't make sense," Harry said loudly. He could feel his heart pounding. "If it is dark magic, they wouldn't have possibly brought back Sirius, since he's clearly on our side."

Albus was looking thoughtful. "Has there been any other similar cases that has happened recently?"

There was a pause as they all thought. It was Hermione who finally answered. "No, sir. I'm sure if there was an abundance of people coming back from the dead we would have heard about it by now."

Albus was nodding.

Hermione spoke again. "I was just wondering if there was anything you—either of you—could tell us that might help with finding out why this has happened?"

Minerva had reseated herself at her desk and was pulling a cup of tea towards herself. Taking a sip seemed to restore her to practicality. "Not at the moment, Hermione, but give me some time to look into it. Meanwhile, neither of you must tell anyone about this, you understand?"

They exchanged looks.

The Headmistress sighed, and Harry heard Albus give an audible chuckle from his portrait. "All right, who else knows?"

"Not a lot of people!" Hermione said hastily. "Besides us, just Ron and—and—" She stopped abruptly and glanced at Harry.

"And?" Minerva prompted.

"Er, well, Sirius sort of let himself be seen by Remus—" Harry began, but to his surprise both Minerva and Albus were nodding their heads.

"I thought it would be him," Albus said, and Harry twisted himself around again, surprised to see the broad smile on the wrinkled face.

Something clicked in his mind.

"Wait," Harry said loudly, as Hermione started to smile as well, "you—you _knew_?"

Minerva let out a giggle that sounded distinctly _un_-Headmistress like. "About Remus and Sirius? Oh, it started when they were in their sixth year, isn't that right, Albus?"

Harry's eyes boggled. "Wait—they were together at _Hogwarts_?" He spluttered the same moment Hermione exclaimed, "Oh, that is so _sweet_."

"Oh, yes," Albus replied. Harry was sure of it now, his eyes really _were _twinkling. "They kept it a secret, of course. Although I think they told your father, Harry. And Peter Pettigrew too, at the time. However, they made the mistake of thinking none of the professors knew."

"Foolish of them," Minerva added. "Oh, but _that _explains it."

Both Harry and Hermione looked lost. "Explains what?"

"Why Remus is here. Oh, didn't you know?" She asked, as both of her old students looked startled. "He's been here since this afternoon, just wandering by the school lake. I thought about going out to talk to him, but he seemed to favor being alone at the moment. I assume that he has only just recently found out?"

"You could say that. He found out today," Harry mumbled.

"Ah. Well then."

"We should get a message to Tonks," Hermione said, looking anxious. "I think she's been looking for Remus all day, she'll want to know where he is—"

"I'll get a message to her," Minerva interrupted. "I know what to say. Why don't you both go and find Remus? I think by now, he will be wanting some company."

Hermione hesitated. "But what about—"

"Give me a few days to look into it, Hermione. I will get back to you. Meanwhile, just make sure nobody else finds out. And don't talk about anything that has been said in this office today, understood?"

At their twin nods, Minerva gave them a satisfied smile, and with a brisk wave of her hand Harry and Hermione were dismissed.

###

Harry saw Remus as he and Hermione approached the lake. In the light of the moon, he could just make out the lone shape of a man sitting under a tree, so still that it looked as if he might have fallen asleep.

As they got a few steps closer, Hermione stopped and placed a hand on his arm. "I think I'll let you handle this, Harry."

He turned, surprised. "What, me?"

"Yes. You'll know what to say better, I think, than me in this situation." He looked at her curiously, and then he understood. _Because you know what it felt like to lose him. _ "Besides, I'd better get back and see what Ron and Sirius have been up to. They'd want to know we found Remus as well."

Harry nodded. "I'll see you back there."

Hermione cast one last glance at the lone figure sitting under a tree in the distance, then gave him an encouraging smile before turning to walk back in the direction they had come.

Harry squared his shoulders and headed towards Remus, the crunch of the grass under his feet sounding abnormally loud in the peaceful tranquility of the empty school grounds. As he neared, Remus turned to look at him. He hadn't been asleep after all.

He stopped with a little distance remaining. "Hey."

"Hello, Harry."

Harry was struck by the difference he could see in his old DADA professor. Remus looked exhausted. The lines seemed deeper on his face and he had leaves and twigs stuck in his hair.

He suddenly realized he didn't know what to say.

"I'm surprised you managed to find me here."

Slightly relieved, Harry took a few steps closer. "Actually, Hermione and I were here just visiting Minerva. She told us you were here."

Remus didn't respond. Unsure how he would react, Harry carefully sat down a little distance from him, feeling uncomfortable. He couldn't help remembering how he had blocked Remus's name from the magic passageways into Grimmauld Place.

They sat there for a little while, neither saying a word, simply listening to the sounds of nature around them.

Then, finally, Remus spoke again. "I understand why you didn't tell me."

Harry winced involuntarily. "I'm really sorry—"

"I'm not mad," Remus continued, talking over him, "I get it. It was safer to keep it a secret."

Harry listened to the sound of the lake rippling up against the mud. "I…also wasn't sure how you would react," he said hesitantly.

Remus let out a surprised bark of laughter. "Guess I can't blame you for that. I didn't take it very well, did I?"

Cautiously, Harry said, "Well, let's just say it could have gone better."

Remus let out a snort that dissolved into a chuckle before growing into a full belly laugh. Harry joined in, relaxing into a more comfortable pose. Neither of them really knew why they were laughing, but at that moment, it felt good to laugh.

With the tension broken, it became easier. Remus picked at tufts of grass as he confessed, "I honestly don't know how I feel about him being alive again."

Harry nodded. "I know how you feel. I didn't _want _to believe it at first, in case it turned out it wasn't real, and I had to lose him all over again. He was the closest thing I had to a father."

Remus nodded slowly. "How do you know he won't?"

He wondered if he had misheard. "What?"

"How do you know," Remus said, crumbling bits of grass between his fingers, "that he won't just die again, just like that?"

Harry said nothing.

"He was brought back from the land of the dead. Who knows where that is? He has already _been _dead. It seems that it would be remarkably easy for someone to say, well, that's enough of a second chance at life, it's time to go now." There was a bitterness in his voice that Harry could tell Remus was trying unsuccessfully to hide.

To be honest, Harry hadn't thought about it at all. He had taken Sirius's return day by day, without thinking of what might happen in the future. Now he forced his mind forward, trying to imagine how it would feel to lose his godfather all over again.

"I think," he said, watching broken bits of grass get swept up by the breeze, "that if that happened, I'd be glad I still got these extra few days with him. I think I'd feel that way with anyone I loved who had the chance to come back from the dead."

Remus looked up, meeting his eyes. Harry paused at the expression on Remus's face – it was one he hadn't seen before. The werewolf looked, at that moment, incredibly vulnerable.

"You know, then?" He asked.

Harry nodded, feeling a flush creep up his neck. "Erm, yeah. Sirius told us." He didn't say under what circumstances. He thought he should keep that bit of information for a more dire time.

Remus let out a hollow laugh. "I don't know if I can do this, Harry."

And Harry felt a strange sense of wonderment at Remus's words. He and his old DADA professor had been friends for years now, and had called each other by their first names even before Harry had left Hogwarts, but there had always been the knowledge of the gap in their years and experience, and Remus's role at always been the mentor, Harry the student. This was the first time he felt that Remus was speaking to him as a real equal, as a friend looking for honest advice.

And so, although these conversations were far and away not his strong suit, he did his best. "You can," he said, making his voice as firm as possible, "I mean, Sirius can be a bit of a git"—he got a bemused snort of agreement at that—"but I know for a fact that he still cares about you. And I know that he really, _really _wants to talk to you again. To be friends."

"Friends," Remus murmured. There was a distant look in his eyes.

"At least," Harry said. "Come and talk to him again, at least once. It would mean a lot to him. And if you don't…well, if it was me, I don't think I'd be able to forgive myself."

The werewolf smiled. He pushed his hair backwards, letting out a loud puff of air. It seemed to Harry that he was expelling the weight of the world from his shoulders. He suddenly looked miles younger.

"I think I can manage that."

Harry grinned. "Why don't you join us for dinner tonight? We have pizza."

Remus raised an eyebrow, glancing at his watch. "You haven't eaten yet? It's late. I should really get back to Tonks."

If Harry thought he detected a slight reluctance in Remus's voice, he didn't comment on it. "We haven't eaten yet. Don't worry, Minerva has already told Tonks where you are. You can afford another hour or so to have dinner with us."

Remus hesitated a moment further.

"Besides," Harry said, "I still feel guilty about not accepting that dinner invitation of yours a month ago—call this my way of making it up for that?"

Remus laughed. It was a sincere laugh, and it lifted Harry's spirits. "Right," he said. "I'll take that." He reached out and clapped Harry on the shoulder as the two men began walking back towards the Hogwarts gates.

* * *

**No S/R moments in this chapter, but there'll be plenty in the next. And we're moving along nicely. I say that loosely because I didn't actually have much of a plan after their reunion until two days ago, but I've come up with a few ideas now. If anyone has something they'd like to see happen or any ideas on how the story should develop you're welcome to tell me! I can't promise I'll use it but it may just inspire me to write more.**

**As far as I know, nothing in JK Rowling's books ever said anything about people coming back from the Veil. That's obviously a bit of authorial discretion on my part.**


	9. Late-Night Talks

**A/N:** **Remus and Sirius try to smooth things out a little; Harry and Ron have a manly talk. And... action!**

* * *

In the past, Remus had found himself in his fair share of awkward situations, one of the top most awkward occasions included James walking in on one of Sirius and his more – er – _passionate _moments (subsequently using the excuse that his eyes had gone blind out of self-defence to make Remus do his homework for him for days afterwards), but this had to be the most awkward dinner he had been at for a long time.

There wasn't even the tinkling sound of cutlery to break the stifling silence because Harry had ordered pizza; there was only the sound of muffled chewing and dry swallowing. Initially Harry had attempted, with forced cheeriness, to make some small talk, but that had gradually dwindled out and the five occupants of the table simply focused on the task of digesting mouthful after mouthful of doughy bread, all of which seemed completely tasteless to Remus.

Sirius was sitting the farthest away from him at the opposite end of the table. The Animagus's anxiety was palpable across the entire kitchen, and every once in a while Remus felt Sirius glance over his way, but immediately shift his gaze the minute Remus raised his head.

It was _infuriating_.

His return with Harry for dinner had been rather anti-climatic as he was greeted with a surprised but delighted smile from Hermione and a cheerful pat on the back from Ron. Sirius had started forward with a clearly relieved "Remus—" but stopped himself short and fallen back suddenly, remaining a good few feet away, and simply stood there scrutinizing his face as if he believed everything Remus had to say was written on his face.

He'd offered to help Harry get the pizza and set the table. It gave him something to do and at least allowed him to avoid talking to Sirius a little longer.

They had now, however, been sitting at the table for at least half an hour, and neither of them had said a word to each other beyond Sirius's one word greeting almost a full hour ago. Remus was beginning to feel slightly ridiculous. On the table, only one of the three giant pizzas that Harry ordered had been finished. Remus had only eaten half of his first slice, finding himself unable to swallow. A glance at Sirius's plate told him he had done no better.

It was Ron who finally broke the silence.

"I'm sorry," the redhead said in a pained voice, "but this has to be one of the worst forms of torture I've ever gone through. And that's including _everything _I went through in the war."

He yelped as a received a sharp nudge from Hermione's elbow.

Remus tried to smile, but the muscles in his jaw seemed to have stopped working completely.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Why don't we leave you two alone?" She asked, looking at Remus pointedly. "I think I can safely say that none of us want any more pizza."

Remus looked over at Sirius, but the Animagus suddenly appeared fascinated by the wood patterns of the dining table.

"I think that's a _brilliant_ idea," Harry said reverently. Remus managed to throw him a look of reproach, to which Harry's attempt to muster up a look of sympathy in response wavered and failed completely. Mouthing 'good luck', Harry waved to Ron and Hermione. "Come on. You two, feel free to talk as long as you like," he added over his shoulder as he herded his two best friends towards the door, "I won't need the kitchen until morning."

Remus did a mental double take. He wondered if he was starting to go mad or if he had actually seen Harry _wink_ at them.

The kitchen door swung shut.

Deciding he'd had enough, he opened his mouth with the vague plan to make a noise – _any _sort of noise, and if it turned out to be a coherent sentence then that was even better – when Sirius finally unhinged his jaw and spoke first:

"What'd you reckon he was implying?"

Any sound he could have made died in his throat, more out of surprise than anything else. As Sirius finally looked up and met his eyes, Remus felt the laughter bubbling up inside him like a pot about the boil, slowly rising to the surface until he couldn't hold it in any longer. Before he knew it, both he and Sirius were laughing like maniacs.

And it felt _good_.

###

Harry had barely taken five steps from the kitchen door when the sound of cheerful laughter erupted from behind him. Ron gave him an exasperated look.

"Typical. We leave, and they start acting like normal human beings again. Bloody hell, that was the worst dinner I've ever had to sit through."

"I thought I was going to wither up and die."

"Oh do be quiet, both of you," Hermione interrupted, looking peeved. "Why can't either of you be more sensitive? To be honest, I feel sorry for Remus. I can't even begin to imagine what he must be feeling like right now."

"You were itching to get out of there as much as us, 'Mione, don't lie."

"Well," she sniffed. "At least I was more polite about it." She cast a glance at her watch and sighed. "Right, I'm off. I have to feed Crookshanks. I asked Mum to help me feed him today but I'm guessing she's forgotten."

She began putting on her coat and paused, one arm partway through a dark blue sleeve. She raised an eyebrow when she noticed that Ron was still hovering beside Harry, looking apprehensive and just a little guilty. "Aren't you coming?"

"I, er, think I'm going to hang out here for a while," Ron mumbled. "Need some male company. Man talk."

Hermione's other eyebrow disappeared beneath her frizzy fringe as well. "_Man_ talk?"

"You know what I mean," Ron said, pink-faced.

She examined him for a moment, then narrowed her eyes at Harry, who held up both hands in a show of _I don't know what he's talking about_. Rolling her eyes, she tossed her hair over her shoulder and said, "Fine. Just don't get into trouble, you two. Enjoy your _man talk_." Pinning her boyfriend with a final stare, she turned and headed briskly out the front door before pausing again and turning to add, almost as an afterthought, "And remember we've got a date tomorrow, Ronald—don't be late." The door clicked shut behind her.

Harry had a hand over his mouth and was attempting to unsuccessfully smother his laughter. He took a deep breath. "Real affectionate, you two."

Ron glowered at him silently.

Harry swallowed his laughter with difficulty, though he couldn't quite wipe the smirk off his face. He decided it would be smarter to change the subject. "So what was that all about, then?"

Looking around in what could only be described as _furtively_, Ron ushered Harry into the living room, snapping on the light and closing the door. "Did you know?" He asked, lowering his voice to a hushed whisper.

Running a hand through his hair in a way that was very reminiscent of his father, Harry dropped into an armchair. Every bone in his body felt like it was crying in pain. "Ron, if you're going to start using riddles like Hermione, I swear I'm—"

The redhead inched closer, face almost directly next to Harry's, and spoke in a stage whisper. "It's _changed_."

Harry blinked and scooted a good few inches away. "Okay, you're creeping me out a little. What the hell are you talking about? What's changed?"

Ron gave him a look that seemed to mourn the intelligence level of his friends, an expression that Harry was sure he picked up from Hermione. "Come _on_, mate. I'm talking about Tonks's Patronus."

"Tonks's—" Harry stopped abruptly and stared. Then he turned and hurriedly pointed his wand at the door, muttered a quick "_muffliato_" and turned back to Ron. "Hang on, how did you know?"

Ron gaped at him. "Wait, how did _you_ know?"

"Tonks's Patronus was here this afternoon, asking me where Remus was." He scrutinized Ron's expression. "Guess she did the same thing to you?" Another thought occurred to him and he looked up sharply. "Did Sirius see it?"

"Yeah, he did—but I don't think he got the significance of that. He died before—well, all of that happened. The moment he heard Remus was missing that was all he could think of."

"Right. Good." Harry rubbed his eyes. "Do you know what it's changed to?"

Ron lowered himself into the armchair opposite him, looking thoughtful. After a moment he shook his head. "It seemed—undecided," he said. "Strangely enough. Like it was trying to turn into a form, but couldn't quite manage it, you know? Except I would have thought if that was the case, then she wouldn't have been able to cast a Patronus at all, let alone send a message."

Harry nodded. "Yeah. I think for me, it seemed to turn into an animal just briefly—but it was so quick I couldn't tell what it was."

Ron was staring into the black soot of the cold fireplace, brows furrowed. "You know what this means though, don't you, mate?"

He nodded again, then shook his head. Tonks's Patronus changing into a werewolf for Remus was a well-known story by now. The fact that her Patronus had changed—or was changing—_again_… he wasn't sure he knew what that implied. Or if he wanted to know. It wasn't really any of his business, after all. He had the distinct feeling he shouldn't be talking about it.

Ron, however, had no such qualms.

"They're having problems," he told him, voice low. "I heard Mum and Dad talking about it the other day at the Burrow. They've been fighting more, she's barely home for dinner, and with him still unemployed…" He drifted off.

Harry picked at a loose thread on the armchair. "Do you think they'll…" But he drifted off as well, not wanting to finish the sentence.

Ron shrugged. "Who knows? It's a marriage, mate. Those things can be lethal sometimes." He paused. "Don't tell mum I said that," he added sheepishly.

He let out a loud snort. "Or Hermione."

Ron looked vaguely green.

Feeling marginally better about how his day had gone, Harry grinned and clapped his best friend on the shoulder. "No worries, mate. You'd better go now, though, and get some sleep. Don't want to be late for your date tomorrow."

He ducked to avoid Ron's half-hearted punch and headed upstairs with the sense that maybe, just maybe, everything would turn out okay.

###

In the kitchen, the atmosphere had lightened considerably. Sirius got up from his seat and went over to the coffee machine. "Want some?" He said, pulling down two coffee mugs from the shelf without waiting for an answer.

Remus raised an eyebrow. "Are you making me _coffee_? You've never made me coffee. Ever."

Sirius almost looked put out. "Well, don't ruin it."

"Sorry."

He watched Sirius pour the coffee, his mind still processing the situation. He couldn't help but feel that this had to be one of the top most surreal moments of his life.

He could feel the air starting to thicken again. Determined to avoid another silence like the one that had just passed, he said, "So, how've you been?" He felt like slapping himself the moment the words were out of his mouth. _How've you been? _It was such a regular question that it seemed inadequate to start this conversation with. But, he supposed, there wasn't really a _right_ way to start this conversation either way.

Sirius glanced over at him in the middle of spooning out teaspoonfuls of sugar. He had just put a third spoonful into his own mug. He liked it sweet.

"I've been… fine, mostly." Sirius stirred the hot black liquid in both mugs, letting the spoon clink against the porcelain louder than necessary. "Harry's taking care of me."

Remus let out a snort before he could stop himself. "Some godfather you are."

Sirius stilled and Remus cursed himself silently. _ Too early for that?_

Then the Animagus cracked a grin. Picking up both mugs, he went round the table and set one in front of Remus, then deliberately slid into the chair next to him. "Like you can talk. I heard you had to be dragged back today like a baby."

"I was _not_!" Remus said indignantly.

Sirius chuckled into his coffee.

He took a sip of his own coffee and paused. Black. One sugar. Sirius had remembered how he took his coffee.

"_Don't you put milk in your coffee?"_

"_No. I only add one sugar to my coffee. I like it quick and easy."_

"_Me too, Moony. But sometimes long and hard is good too."_

"_Sirius, you're a dirty minded pervert."_

"_You love me for it, Moons."_

"_Don't call me Moons. Why do you want to know how I drink coffee anyway? It's not like you'll ever get off your arse to make me any."_

"_Aw, don't be like that, Moons. You never know. I might surprise you."_

Remus shook his head briefly, shaking himself out of the memory, feeling slightly off-balanced. He did his best to ignore the slight jolt that his heart just made.

Sirius cleared his throat and scratched the side of his neck unconsciously. Remus immediately braced himself; the scratching was Sirius's nervous habit, it meant he was getting ready to say something that was going to be potentially extremely uncomfortable and awkward.

When Sirius spoke, his voice was so soft Remus had to lean forward a fraction to hear what he said.

"I…I heard you got married. Congratulations."

_Ah. _Remus winced inwardly, but then he realized there had been no hint of bitterness or resentment in Sirius's tone. Feeling only marginally relieved, and not quite knowing what to say or where to look, he stared down at the black pool in his mug and mumbled, "Thanks."

There were too many roads, too many directions that this conversation could go, none of which Remus was prepared to take at the moment. He cast his mind about wildly for another topic but came up with nothing.

Sirius, however, seemed to sense his reluctance. Tentatively, but with a genuine smile, he said, "You have a son?"

This time the relief was complete. "Yes. Teddy." He felt suddenly much lighter just at the mention of his baby boy and relaxed a little, leaning back in his chair. Digging his fingers into the front pocket of his jeans he pulled out a tattered-looking leather wallet and from that fished out a photograph of Teddy, laughing at the camera and pulling at fistfuls of rainbow-colored hair. He handed the photo to Sirius.

The Animagus let out his trademark bark of laughter. "He's wonderful, Moony. That's some hair he's got."

Remus grinned, but Sirius suddenly looked uncomfortable. Frowning, he cast his mind back over the conversation and something clicked in his mind.

"Hey now, don't mock my son's hair. It's still far better than your floppy mop, Padfoot."

Sirius blinked at him. "Right." He blinked a couple more times and seemed to smile to himself before finally fully computing what Remus had said. A look that remarkably resembled a wounded puppy settled over his features. "Oi! I'll have you know this hairstyle is very hip at the moment."

Remus laughed, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "You haven't changed your hairstyle at all, Padfoot. And if you want to fit in to the times don't say 'hip'."

Looking affronted, Sirius grumbled, "Oh, like _you're_ so in with the times. And I'll say any damn word I like." But his eyes were shining and there was a familiar comfortable crooked smile playing on his lips.

Draining the last of his coffee, Remus suddenly realized he was happy. Sitting in the kitchen, laughing and joking with Sirius Black, he realized was happier than he had been for a long time.

"You know," he mused, "honestly, I'm surprised that you managed to hold out for this long without any contact. What with your patience and your attention-span…" He drifted off as he caught Sirius's guilty look. Frames and pictures jostled in his mind until it fell into place, and all of a sudden it was clear.

He stared at Sirius in disbelief.

"_You_ sent me that copy of _The Quibbler_!"

Slowly, Sirius inched backwards in his seat. "Erm. Well, technically, yes."

He stood up from his seat and glared. "Sirius Black, you're a bloody arsehole."

"Moony—"

"You _died_, and then you came back to fucking _life_, waited _one month_ before telling me and now you're saying you didn't even have enough faith in me to believe that I'd remember the date of your death?"

"I—"

"Did you honestly think I'd _forget_?"

"No!" Sirius said loudly. "I didn't—fuck!" He cursed as he'd backed so far backwards that he had almost fallen off his chair. Grabbing the edge of the table, he pulled himself back up just in time. "Look, I didn't think you'd forget, but I just… I wasn't sure if…" Sirius let out a howl of frustration and he gave the legs of the table a kick for good measure. "Ow! Okay, listen, I didn't you'd forget, but I wasn't sure if you _wanted _to remember. I just wanted to make sure you did so you'd go to Godric's Hollow that day."

Remus said nothing. He was sure Sirius could feel him seething underneath the surface.

Sirius gave him a pleading look. "Remus, I set myself a dare that day. I wanted to see you. And I wanted you to see me. But I was scared. So I set myself a dare and told myself that if I was man enough I'd go and meet you on the day I died. I sent you the magazine just to make sure you'd show up."

From his vantage point, Remus regarded Sirius, a range of emotions toiling inside him. The man sitting in front of him was his oldest friend, his _best _friend, his fellow Marauder, his first love and occasionally, the most irritating idiot on the planet. He had _died_, but had now somehow, amazingly, miraculously, been returned to him.

He raised his hand.

Sirius looked resigned. "Go on. Hit me if you have to. I suppose I deserve it." He closed his eyes.

Remus's hand lunged forward, grabbed the front of Sirius's shirt and yanked him upwards. The Animagus's eyes flew open in surprise a moment before he found himself wrapped in a fierce hug.

Remus closed his own eyes as he felt Sirius's arms come around to embrace him just as tightly and breathed in deeply, filling his mind and awakening his senses again to the familiar smell of Sirius. His hands curled around the material of Sirius's shirt.

_He's really here._

And standing in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, locked in the arms of a man he never dreamed he'd see alive again, Remus Lupin allowed the seed of just the tiniest fraction of hope to be planted in his heart.

For now, that was all he needed.

* * *

**La la la. Writing the end of this chapter made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Ahem. So how's it going?**

**Reviews would be awesome!**


	10. Questionable Cooking

**A/N: Okay, I've literally been writing this chapter in chunks while I'm on the train/bus on my way to work/uni, my free time has been available only in snatches for the past two weeks. Sorry it's taken so long, but at least I didn't end the last chapter in a cliffhanger! I'm not completely happy with this chapter to be honest, it feels just a little disjointed to me, but I thought updating sooner was better than later. The first part of this chapter was initially the end of the last chapter, but I moved it because I wanted to end the last chapter on a happier note. Thanks for all your lovely reviews for the last chapter, too!**

* * *

By the time Remus Apparated back to the doorstep of his home, slipped out of his shoes and tiptoed down the hallway, up the stairs and into his bedroom with Tonks, it was 2AM in the morning.

He grabbed a pair of boxers and a clean shirt from the closet and glanced quickly at Tonks as he headed towards the bathroom. She appeared fast asleep, turned on her side so that she faced the door instead of Remus's side of the bed. He realized with a slight jolt that they had both been sleeping that way for – he couldn't remember. Months. It started perhaps a few weeks after Teddy had been born.

He slid the bathroom door shut behind him, turned on the tap and splashed some water onto his face before looking up at himself in the mirror. Did he look younger? More energized? Invigorated after talking with his best-friend-come-alive for five hours straight?

Honestly, he couldn't tell. He _felt _like it – but he wondered if that was just wishful thinking, emotions that he thought he was _supposed _to be feeling that he projected on top of his real feelings because this was what he had been doing for the past few months: putting on a mask, doing what was required, saying what was desired of him. The thought seemed to hover like a black cloud over the past hours of laughter and chatter he'd had with Sirius and he shook it away. _You're thinking too much again. _He ran through the last five hours in his mind. What had they talked about, really? It seemed like everything and nothing at the same time; time had simply rushed by.

It took him a moment to focus on his reflection and realize that he was smiling like an idiot.

He changed quickly whilst brushing his teeth and turned off the bathroom light before walking back into the bedroom so that it wouldn't disturb Tonks. He had just slipped into bed and was pulling the blanket over himself when he realized that as he'd walked past her, Tonks's eyes had been open. The elation he had felt just a moment ago was starting to fade.

To her credit, she waited a good five minutes before speaking, as if she was giving Remus a chance to explain himself. He wracked his brain desperately for an excuse that he could possibly use, feeling the time crawl by, and coming up with nothing.

Her patience finally ran out.

"Where have you been?"

He hadn't expected her to be so cold. He knew she'd be angry and that he would probably be confronted with an outpour of blame and hurt. The flat iciness of Tonks's tone only appeared when she was _truly_ furious. His heart sank.

"Hogwarts."

He only seemed to be able to manage the one word before his throat closed up. He swallowed, cleared it loudly.

"Minerva sent me a message." Her voice was still the same emotionless steel. "She said you went back to _reminisce_." She said the word like it was filthy, and Remus silently cursed Minerva for giving him such a flimsy cover story. People didn't just go back to their old school to reminisce for no reason. "I sent her a Patronus two hours ago and she said she'd long gone home."

_Blank, blank, blank_. His mind had gone empty. He scrabbled desperately in thin air for words.

"I want," said Tonks, her tone wavering slightly, "to be fair. So I'm going to give you a chance to explain yourself, even though I don't feel like you least bit deserve it."

_Fuck, Remus, say something!_

"I had dinner with Harry," he blurted out, and an immense wave of relief swept over him. That, at least, was true.

There was a short silence. Remus could hear the seconds tick by.

"I noticed you hadn't been speaking to him much lately."

Remus twisted around on the bed so that he was facing her back. "Yes. We had a… well, everything's fine now. It was just a misunderstanding."

She didn't ask him what sort of misunderstanding it was. He wasn't sure if she believed him or not.

In fact, she didn't say anything for so long he thought she'd fallen asleep again. He was just about to drift off himself when her voice cut through the darkness, sharp and brittle: "Are you seeing someone else, Remus?"

He lay there, stunned at her assumption, while his mind tried to figure out the right response. At the same time he couldn't stop the guilt that seemed to steep into his mind, like ink spilt on cloth.

_I haven't done anything wrong. _

Irritation clawed at him.

"No," he said, just as sharply. "I'm not, Dora. I don't know where you're getting that from. I just had a late night with Harry, we were talking and lost track of the time."

It sounded contrived even to his own ears.

She didn't say anything more after that. She didn't turn around to face him, either, so after a while he turned back to his original position, stared at the wall in front of him, and counted the hours until morning.

###

The next morning, Harry came downstairs and hesitated outside the kitchen door, which was slightly ajar. The house still seemed to be intact when he woke up, so he was feeling optimistic about how Sirius and Remus's talk last night had gone.

_Although just because the rest of the house is fine, they were in the kitchen the whole night. It might look like the site of the Third Wizarding War in there._

Bracing himself, he nudged the door open and stood in the doorway, gaping.

The kitchen was spotless, possibly for the first time since he had moved in and Hermione had given the entire place a full spring clean. The kitchen table boasted a generous spread of breakfast specials: buttermilk scones, blueberry muffins, scrambled eggs, fried sausages, baked beans, buttered toast, sautéed mushrooms, grilled tomatoes. Standing at the sink was Sirius, wiping dry the last frying pan.

"Who are you and what have you done to my godfather?" Harry quipped, pulling out a chair and sliding into it, still staring at the feast in front of him. "Did you turn into a cooking prodigy overnight?"

Sirius turned and flashed him a grin. "Good morning, Harry," he said cheerfully. Harry blinked in surprise; the dark bags that had been underneath Sirius's eyes for the past two weeks had miraculous disappeared, his hair looked washed and actually combed, his eyes were glinting with the familiar sparkle he hadn't seen since Sirius's first return.

He took all of this in, and grinned widely in return. "So it went well with Remus, huh?" He said, helping himself to sausages.

Sirius poured out two mugs of coffee. Harry wasn't sure if someone could actually pour coffee _happily_, but somehow Sirius managed to give that impression. "You know, I think it did," Sirius said, passing one of the mugs over. "We talked until two this morning."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Wow. I'm glad it went so well – and here I was worried that I'd be woken up in the middle of the night with my kitchen in tatters and Remus having almost killed you." He took a bite of sausage and blanched.

His godfather appeared not to have noticed. He stirred his coffee absent-mindedly and gazed out the window. "Yeah, it did go pretty well, all things considering. Somehow, I don't feel like I've been dead at all – or that I actually _died_ – it just feels like I've been on a long holiday and now I'm finally back home."

As discreetly as possible, Harry popped two sausages back into its serving plate. He reached for the plate of eggs, which was at least a bright sunny yellow and looked considerably like what scrambled eggs were supposed to look like.

"I don't know, Harry…" Sirius said, and Harry heard the precision with which he was weighing his words, "who knows? Things might be able to go back to…normal."

He knew he wasn't mistaken in hearing a pause before the word 'normal'. He thought it probably wasn't the right time yet to ask his godfather just what 'normal' for him meant.

Sirius drained his coffee, left his mug in the sink and drifted out of the kitchen in a manner that Harry swore seemed like he was floating. Torn between feeling amused and anxious, he shoved a forkful of eggs into his mouth.

"_Eughh_," he spluttered, sending bits of egg flying across the table. "Bloody hell." He stared at the untouched platters of food on the table and decided that his godfather hadn't become an overnight cooking prodigy after all.

###

Three days later, Remus Apparated onto the doorstep of Number 12, Grimmauld Place, wearing his second-best suit over a clean shirt, jeans and aftershave, and holding a bottle of red wine in front of his chest like a shield. He felt overdressed and ridiculous and just marginally relieved that he had not opted for his very best suit in the end.

_You're dressing up for Sirius_, his traitorous brain accused him silently.

_Shut up_, he thought furiously, _I am not. Harry fire-called and told me come over for a celebration. A celebration requires clothes of good taste._

_You're dressing up for Sirius_, the voice in his head repeated, now taking on a slight mocking tone.

_I'm thirty-eight and married, I do not dress up to impress anyone, much less my oldest friend who has seen me in far worse conditions._

The voice was now rolling its eyes and drawling. _You're dressing up for Sirius. Admit it._

Just as Remus decided that he would Apparate back home, ditch the suit and possibly change into an older shirt, the door was yanked open by Harry, who greeted him with a cheerful grin. "Hey, Remus! Glad you could come. We're having a little pre-celebration."

Remus stepped into the hallway, hoping he looked completely at ease, because that was the last thing he felt like. "A pre-celebration?"

"Well, Molly's going to throw some big to-do thing tomorrow – oh yes, you're invited to that, by the way, you and Tonks – but we wanted to celebrate a little earlier."

He was feeling completely lost. "What are you talking about?"

"Wait till you hear Ron's news," was Harry's only response.

Right on cue, the familiar redhead bounded into the hallway, closely followed by Hermione, whose cheeks were flushed pink. "Remus!" Ron said, settling one arm around Hermione's waist. "Guess what? I made the Quidditch team!"

Comprehension dawned. His anxiety with his clothes momentarily forgotten, Remus grinned and held out his hand, which Ron shook with gusto. "Congratulations, Ron."

"Thanks," Ron said happily. "Knew you had faith in me. And 'Mione was always saying I'd never make it…"

"I was _not_," Hermione said indignantly. "I never said that."

"You were _thinking_ it," Ron insisted.

"Ronald Weasley, I always have faith in my boyfriend. And since that happens to be you at the moment for reasons that are beyond me, I'll thank you to not—"

"What'd'you mean, _'at the moment_'!"

"Oh, honestly—"

Their voices drifted out down the hall as they left. Remus raised an eyebrow. "Seems like the wrong night to pick a fight, even for Ron."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry too much about it," Harry said in a long-suffering voice as he took the wine from Remus. "In about five minutes they'll be all over each other."

Remus blinked. "Oh. Uh. Right then."

"By the way, I should warn you," Harry added over his shoulder, leading him into the living room, "Sirius insisted on cooking tonight."

"He's cooking?"

"Yeah, he's been doing that a lot lately. On the plus side, I think I've managed to finally lose all that extra weight from Christmas."

Remus burst out laughing. "That bad?"

"Absolutely _awful_." Harry said, collapsing onto the couch by the fireplace. "I just don't have the heart to tell him. One more botched continental breakfast, though, and I just might crack."

"He made_ continental_ _breakfast_?"

"You really don't want to know. We should get some glasses for a drink. _Sirius_," Harry shouted, raising his voice in the direction of the kitchen, "bring out three wine glasses, would you?" He caught Remus's look. "Yes I know I can use magic. But if he's going to make me suffer through another meal of sneaking food into napkins and then upstairs to vanish secretly, then the least he can do is get us some glasses."

Remus laughed again, falling onto a blue armchair next to Harry. "None for Ron and Hermione?"

Harry waved a hand airily, screwing up his face in disgust. "They'll come for it when they're ready."

Remus looked around the room. It had been a while since he had been in Harry's living room, but nothing much seemed to have changed. He caught sight of Harry's collection of model broomsticks sitting on the mantelpiece, and it immediately reminded him of Teddy and Tonks. He hadn't had a proper conversation with Tonks since he had returned late after his catch up with Sirius three days ago. She wasn't giving him the silent treatment exactly, but her entire demeanor had become so cold he might as well have been living with a block of ice. They communicated only for pure necessities; otherwise they avoided each other as much as possible. Remus knew that they needed to talk about it, to get it out – whatever _it _was – but every time he saw her, the accusation she had made that night hung between them, heavy as stone, and seemed to weigh on every word that passed between them. It made having even a casual conversation forced and strained.

"Remus?"

He refocused on his surroundings and realized that his mind had drifted off. Harry was staring at him, looking slightly concerned. Remus gave himself a little shake and smiled to show he was alright, trying to bring some normalcy back into the moment.

"Oh, by the way, Dora wants you to stop giving Teddy charmed broomsticks. They're driving her mad."

Harry looked like he was torn between laughing and attempting a look of contrite. "Whoops. Tell Tonks I'm sorry about that. But Teddy loves them, though."

"That's what I said." Remus settled back comfortably against the cushions of the armchair, putting up his feet on the couch opposite. "By the way, what spell did you use to charm those things? I can't figure it out."

"That's not surprising. It's a nifty spell that George made up and taught me, actually. Something he developed with Fred," Harry said, grinning.

Amused, he shook his head. "Figures."

"Is everything okay with you and Tonks?"

The question had just slipped out without warning and Harry, who looked mildly horrified, began apologizing even before Remus had fully processed the words. "Oh bollocks, sorry. I know it isn't actually any of my business, it's just—"

"Harry," Remus interrupted. "Don't worry about it. It's fine. _We're_ fine, Tonks and I. Everything's fine." He said all of this as firmly as possible, trying not to care that he was attempting to convince himself as much as Harry.

Harry surveyed him for a moment. "Good," he said, and Remus caught the careful wary tone underneath the casual demeanor. He wondered who else had been speculating about his marriage.

But Harry, as it turned out, wasn't finished. He looked like he was debating whether or not to say what was clearly itching to get out. He opened his mouth and got as far as, "It's just with Sirius—" when the man himself walked into the room, carrying three empty glasses and wearing a white shirt that was stained with what looked like three different substances.

Sirius's eyes brightened when he caught sight of Remus, who did not miss Sirius's quick flick of eyes up and down as he looked at him. "Hey, Moony," he said, flashing a smile. "You look nice." Setting down the glasses, he popped open the wine that Remus had brought and began to pour. "It's just with Sirius what?" He added, as he handed glasses over to both of them.

Harry clammed up.

A well-trained Marauder through and through, Remus said smoothly, "It's just with Sirius's lousy cooking, it'll be a miracle if we get anything decent to eat tonight."

"Hey! I'll have you know, my roast chicken is looking tanned and gorgeous in the oven at the moment, Moony." He eased easily into the couch opposite Remus, next to his propped up feet. "As do you."

There was a loud spluttering and coughing as Harry choked violently on a mouthful of wine. He started to stand with the clear intent on leaving the two of them alone, but was not-so-subtly yanked back down onto the couch by Remus, who attempted to look completely nonchalant while slapping Harry hard on the back.

Sirius let out a bark of laughter that was just a bit too high-pitched. "I was just joking, Remus. You skin doesn't even let you get tanned. Harry, my boy, don't choke to death."

"Right," Remus said weakly, managing to force out a chuckle. He knew Sirius was probably expecting a quick comeback and remembered all the flirty bantering they'd done even before they had gotten together in their sixth year at Hogwarts. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead, he changed the subject. "Let's toast. To Ron."

They clinked glasses, none of them mentioning the fact that Ron wasn't in the room.

Striving for the comfortable atmosphere that had settled before Sirius's comment, Remus asked, "So when does he start?"

Harry replied. "He starts training in three days. It's really soon, but Quidditch season is coming up again and they don't want to lose any time."

Sirius snorted. "Time won't help them."

"Don't let Ron hear you say that," Harry said, though he was grinning. "He's convinced he can turn the team around and win the championship."

"I heard on the radio that France is supposed to have a killer team this year…"

"Sirius, mate, that is completely the wrong attitude," said Ron, coming into the room at that moment with Hermione not far behind, still a little pink in the face. "The England team just needs unity. I'm sure we can manage."

"You haven't even met the rest of the team yet and it's already 'we'?" Sirius teased.

Ron waved this off, saying airily, "No I haven't, but we're all the top Quidditch players of the country. How could we not get along?"

Sirius opened his mouth, caught Harry's dagger look and shut it again. Instead, as Harry, Ron and Hermione started laughing at something Ron was saying, he leaned over to Remus, close enough for Remus to feel his breath on his cheek. "They haven't gotten along yet so far," he murmured, and moved away immediately before Remus could utter a response. He watched as Sirius got up and headed over to Ron to give him a congratulatory handshake.

For the rest of the night, the conversation revolved around Quidditch with Harry, Ron and Sirius talking animatedly. Hermione sat beside Ron, somehow managing to look both proud and resigned at the same time. For his part, Remus contented himself with listening to the conversation and sneaking glances over at Sirius every once in a while. He felt like he was back in fifth year.

He made his excuses and left at nine thirty, determined not to be home late again. He Apparated a short distance from his house so he could walk the rest of the way, thinking that the fresh air would help calm the butterflies that had persistently nagged at him for the entire night, which he had a feeling had started when Sirius had told him he looked nice.

_Why does that goddamn git still have that effect on me?_

As he walked, immersed in thought, a lone figure walked towards him on the opposite side of the road. Just as he glanced over, the figure turned down an alleyway and disappeared. Remus blinked, frowning slightly. There had been something familiar about the figure, but he couldn't quite place what. He forgot about it as he reached his front door, mentally bracing himself for another frosty evening with Tonks.

It seemed like a never-ending cycle. The question was, when would it break?

* * *

**When, indeed? Wonder who that mysterious figure is?**

**By the way, how am I going with the whole British English thing? I grew up with American English and it's really strange for me to be typing things like 'arse' instead of 'ass'.**

**Please review! It's a long weekend coming up so I'll actually have some real free time. I shall be working hard to churn out another chapter so stay tuned!**


	11. Facing Truths

**A/N: This chapter is about pasta and deep intuitions. Lots of angst I'm afraid, but it's an important chapter plot-wise. Also, I realize I haven't replied to reviews to the last chapter – sorry! I had this rather sizable stack of deadlines that all came crashing on top of me in the last week or so, but I will start responding again now. Thank you for taking the time to read and to give your feedback, even if I didn't reply I promise I did read it and I'm baking you all virtual cookies.**

* * *

Harry had a knack of perceiving good news from bad news before others.

After all, destinies and prophecies and Dark Lords had plagued him since the moment he'd been born. He had a second nature about these things. Particularly since the war ended, he'd realized he had become increasingly perceptive in distinguishing what kind of news people were about to tell him before he received it. He didn't consider it particularly useful since it didn't stop him from knowing the news anyway, merely precipitated and gave him the barest of warnings before it hit him.

So when the Hogwarts owl arrived while he was having his usual lunch date with Ron and Hermione on a Monday noontime, interrupting Ron's enthusiastic tale about his first day of professional Quidditch training and stealing his chocolate pudding away, Harry felt the first twinge in his gut that this wouldn't be good news.

He opened the letter whilst Ron tried to wrestle back his chocolate pudding.

_Dear Harry—_

_Please come by Hogwarts to see me as soon as convenient for you. Bring Hermione and Ron if you wish. _

_Regards,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

The sinking feeling only got worse as he quickly scanned over the piece of parchment. Grabbing his quill, he scribbled a hasty reply:

_Will be there this evening. –Harry_

He coaxed the owl away from Ron's chocolate pudding with difficulty and tied it back onto its leg. "Go on," he told the bird, who gave him a snooty look and an indignant hoot before taking off in a flurry of feathers, knocking over the pudding in the process.

Ron gave the pudding a disparaging look. "That bloody bird did that on purpose."

Hermione was giving him one of her X-Ray scans, scrutinizing his face like all his thoughts were written on it. He was convinced she really could read his mind sometimes. "Was that from Minerva?"

_Like now_. "Yeah," he mumbled, sticking a fork into his pasta and swirling it around without interest. "She wants us to go see her tonight."

Ron looked up. "I can't, mate, I've got training."

"Don't worry, I'll be there," Hermione said firmly. "Is this about…Snuffles?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "That'd be a good choice for a code name if the whole world didn't know it by now. She didn't say, but I'd bet my model broomstick collection it's at least something to do with the Veil."

Hermione, to his irritation, was still studying him. "You think it's bad news?"

He shrugged, giving his pasta a violent jab with his fork. "I don't know."

She finally looked away, transferring her gaze to her own sandwich thoughtfully. "It's been a while since we visited her. About two weeks, I'd say. Would be about time to hear from her."

Harry didn't reply.

He had completely lost his appetite now; his stomach felt like it was twisted in some complex triple knot that could only be untangled with scissors. The tiny niggling feeling that he had been pushing aside for the past two weeks returned with a new force, taking over everything else and coming to the forefront of his mind so he could no longer ignore it. He knew the feeling well: it was fear.

He heard Hermione say his name, and glanced up from the mess he had made of his pasta to meet her eyes. Her brown eyes were clear and understanding. "We have to know," she told him gently.

He knew that she was, as usual, right.

He just wished that his gut feeling would, for once, be wrong.

###

At six o'clock that evening, Remus was cooking dinner for Andromeda and himself, having just put Teddy to bed. Tonks was predictably late. The task seemed almost mundane on a completely surreal level – he remembered doing the exact same thing over a month ago before he'd found out Sirius was alive. Now, it just seemed strange to keep on doing it like everything was normal.

He hadn't seen Sirius since Ron's impromptu celebration dinner, but within hours – no,_ seconds _– of returning to the living, Sirius had managed to seep into every corner of Remus's mind, injecting himself into his thoughts just like before.

_No, that's wrong. That would be implying he actually left it at some point._

Remus stirred the pot with more force than necessary, scowling over starchy steam water. First, he had found out he was a werewolf. Then against all odds he had managed to make three incredible friends at school. And then he had fallen in love with one of them, and cursed the heavens for creating a gay werewolf. And then he had found out that the man he had fallen in love with thought he was a liar and a traitor before he had gone to Azkaban. Then he had escaped from his cell and returned to Remus. And _then _he'd gone and gotten himself killed… and now, brought back to life.

_If there is a God, he must be using my life as some sort of experiment. Or as an elaborate joke. That is the only explanation._

He heard the front door open and paused, frowning, eyes immediately going to his watch. It was just 6.05pm. _Surely, it can't be__…__?_

Tonks's voice drifted down the hall. "Remus?"

Hastily, Remus wiped his hands on his jeans and lowered the heat on the stove, walking out into the hallway to meet her. "You're home for dinner," he said, unable to keep the shock from his voice.

She smiled hesitantly. "Yes. Aren't you happy?"

He couldn't quite pinpoint his emotions. Happy was definitely there, but it wasn't alone. He could feel Bitterness coming to join it, along with Pain and… something else he couldn't put a name on at the moment.

But the question was meant to be simple. So he smiled in return and reached forward to embrace her. "Of course."

He felt her arms around him for a brief moment before she untangled herself and headed for the kitchen. "Something smells good," she called over her shoulder.

"It's spaghetti bolognaise," he said, following her. "I don't know if we have enough—I only made it for two, I didn't expect you to be back so soon…"

"Mum's not joining us," Tonks said, peering into the pot over the stove. "I told her I wanted a date night."

He blinked. "You did?"

"Yep."

To give himself time to process this, Remus went back to his cooking, straining the spaghetti over the sink and leaning back to avoid a face full of steam. He didn't say anything.

Tonks, however, was unusually vocal. "I thought it was time that we talked," she said. He heard the determined edge to her voice and knew that he wouldn't be able to avoid it.

The unnamable feeling in his gut grew, as if expanding by osmosis, and he realized with a sinking heart what the feeling was: Resentment. Layers and layers of resentment fought to take precedent on the surface of his brain; of Tonks's constant absence from taking care of Teddy. Of accusing him of cheating. Of putting work before family. But at the moment, he mostly resented her for waltzing into the house for dinner like she did it every day, like he should be falling over his hands and knees in gratefulness. Like she belonged here.

The rational side of his brain responded with a clear: _she does. She lives here, too._

He thought about what she had said: _I thought it was time that we talked_. She had thrown a challenge at him, waiting to see if he would take it. It was like a stone thrown on the middle of a bridge, its weight heavy, blocking the way of all communication. He would have to either walk around it or pick it up.

He scooped sauce over a plate of pasta and handed it over to Tonks. He knew what the right response was.

"Yes," he replied, portioning over his own plate of spaghetti. "Let's talk."

He sat down at the table opposite her and swirled the pasta around his fork, knowing that it was going to be tasteless if he put it in his mouth. There was a sinking feeling in his gut that told him this evening wouldn't end well.

"I wanted to say…" Her voice drifted as she struggled to find the words. Or perhaps the courage. "I wanted to apologize," she said finally. "For what I said the other night. It wasn't fair. That… you didn't deserve that accusation."

Slightly surprised, Remus looked up from his meal to stare at her. She was staring at her own plate of spaghetti like it was the oracle. "It hurt," he told her honestly.

She nodded. "I know. I wanted it to, at the time. You've never been home so late since we got married… but I guess I shouldn't really judge on that."

He felt a wave of sympathy towards her, washing away a little of the resentment. "It's okay."

But she was shaking her head now, looking determined. "No, it's not."

She said it with such conviction that instead of responding, he simply waited to see what she wanted to say next.

She chose her next words carefully. "It's… it hasn't been right for a while. Our marriage. Hasn't it?"

Finally. The elephant in the room was being confronted. Remus didn't know whether to feel relief or dread. Nor did he know how he _wanted _this to end. So he settled for tacit agreement.

"We've been a little disconnected lately," he said cautiously.

Tonks snorted loudly at that, dropping her forkful of spaghetti with a _clang_. "A _little_ _disconnected_! Oh please, Remus. You and I both know it's been far longer than _lately _and far more than _a little_."

And the resentment was back with renewed vigour. Remus's fingers clenched around his own fork as he snapped back, "Perhaps it wouldn't have been so long if I'd actually seen you for more than ten minutes a day for the past few months."

Her eyes flashed with anger. "I was working. I have a _job_."

That stung. His grip on the fork tightened, knuckles paling. The accusation slipped out before he managed to register his thoughts. "Were you actually working, though?"

Tonks's eyes narrowed. She pushed back from the table and stood up, hair frizzing, morphing into a sharp red, but her voice was deadly calm. "What are you saying, Remus?"

He wanted to take it back, wanted to rewind time, remembering how he felt when she threw the accusation at him just a few nights ago. But he couldn't, because somewhere in his mind he could hear a small portion of his brain whispering: _it's true it's true it's true._

He felt desperate for evidence otherwise. He needed her to convince him that it wasn't. And so what came out of his mouth was, "You know what I'm saying."

Her gaze burned holes into his skin.

The atmosphere in the room had dropped to frosty levels below zero. They faced off across the kitchen table, dinner forgotten.

Just as Remus could feel his will failing, Tonks turned away, her back to him.

When she spoke, her voice was like shattered glass. "This isn't working anymore."

And there it was. Those words that he had been expecting for months now, finally dropping on him like a bomb. He had thought the emotional impact would be stronger, but at the moment, all he could feel was relief that it had finally, _finally _been laid on the table.

"No," he said, voice hollow.

She twisted around to look back at him and he saw that her eyes were glistening, a tear rolling down her cheek. His stomach twisted and churned at her expression, and he stood, half reaching out for her, but she took a step back, shaking her head. He watched her defenses spring up around her, setting up an invisible wall between them that he knew he could no longer knock down. There was a moment of uncertain silence as they both froze in position – him with one arm reached out, her with her arms crossed and leaning away – before Tonks let out a loud sob and ran from the room. Remus heard the front door slam.

He sat down again, stunned.

It had happened so quickly that it was over in a matter of seconds. Guilt gripped at him, that this was _his_ fault, his failure at making the marriage work, his inability to connect with another person. His denial in believing that he loved her enough to have it all work out. Then the remorse came flooding in, and he buried his head in his hands at the kitchen table.

_My marriage is over._

Truth is often hard, like concrete, gray and solid, inviting to be stepped on. His fingers curled at strands of his hair. The knowledge that yet another part of his life had been unsuccessful pierced through him like a knife. It was a pain that he couldn't possibly begin to describe.

But all through his turmoil of emotions, he couldn't get rid of the one unshakeable fact in his mind that even through the sharp words they had flung at each other like bullets, when he had accused her of having an affair, Tonks hadn't denied it.

And that hurt as much as the knowledge of his failure.

###

"This isn't good news."

Minerva hadn't bothered with a greeting, looking up the moment Harry and Hermione had walked into her office and gesturing for them to sit impatiently. There was a tower of books teetering on the edge of her desk and a small pile of newspaper cuttings next to it. She studied her two former students' expressions carefully and repeated, "This isn't good news."

Harry exchanged a look of resignation with Hermione. "I expected as much," he said warily.

Minerva paused, considering how to take the conversation next. She said slowly, "Technically speaking, this isn't really _bad _news, either."

Both Harry and Hermione's confused expressions stared back at her.

The Headmistress sighed. "To say I have either will mean I have to be certain. And that's the problem with this situation here: it's very difficult to be certain of anything. All the information I have gathered about the Veil is murky at best. No two books say the same thing. The theories about wizards returning from the Veil are numerous and far more widespread than I expected."

Harry sneaked a glance at Hermione: she looked devastated. He bit back a sigh. Even after all these years, Hermione still expected a bit of studious research and books to solve every problem.

"I have, however, one theory that stands out from the rest that I am more inclined to believe." Minerva hesitated, her fingers floating towards the pile of newspapers on her desk. "If I am correct, then we will have to act immediately. There cannot be any time to lose."

Harry felt like he was standing on the edge of the world, waiting to be pushed over. "Please just bloody say it," he blurted.

Hermione shot him a look.

Minerva, however, nodded. She flipped over the first newspaper cutting, and Harry blinked in surprise when he recognized the pale face and blond hair silently glowering at him immediately. Lucius Malfoy.

The headline below the photo read: _MALFOY MANOR OFF THE MARKET._

He waited for an explanation.

"Lucius Malfoy," Minerva said, slipping into her familiar, detached Professor-mode of simply imparting knowledge and no more. "Part of Voldemort's inner circle. Died at the end of the war alongside Voldemort, together with Narcissa. Draco Malfoy put his family estate up for sale not long afterwards." She pointed a finger at the date of the clipping: March 29th, 1998. "It has never been bought because of the Death Eater links associated with the house, no wizard has wanted to go near the place. Three months ago it was suddenly taken off the market with no explanation, and what's more Draco Malfoy himself has vanished without a trace."

Minerva set the cutting aside and turned over the next cutting on the pile: _A GRAVE SMASHING. _"Antonin Dolohov," she said grimly. "Death Eater. Killed in the Final Battle. Says here that on April 10th, his headstone has been smashed—blown to smithereens—and his grave overturned."

And the sinking feeling was back, dread starting to creep through Harry's veins. He realized that his hand ached and he looked down to see Hermione's fingers clenched around his hand in an iron grip.

The list went on, Harry only vaguely registering the names Macnair, Rosier, Yaxley and Wilkes, accompanied with newspaper articles that all seemed to point to one horrifying truth.

Minerva turned over the last newspaper clipping, and Harry closed his eyes as the article that Ron had showed him the night of Sirius's return in the kitchen flashed before him. Back then, it had simply seemed like an insignificant passing, a minor incident, a wild guess. Just one of those things that scared you but you didn't take seriously because you didn't think it could possibly have any deeper implications.

How could he have been so blind?

The ugly face at the center of the picture sneered at him mockingly, and the headline was as clear and bold as before.

_FENRIR GREYBACK – NOT SO DEAD?_

Hermione let out a sharp gasp. "You think someone's bringing all the dead Death Eaters back to life?"

Minerva gathered all the clippings back into one pile, her Professor mask slipping, and Harry caught a glimpse of the anxiety flash behind her eyes. "Separately, these clippings do not amount to much evidence. But taken together, over the last four months or so, it seems clear to me that there is a pattern. I think someone, perhaps more than one person, is attempting to raise the dead of the Dark Lord, yes—but as I said before, I cannot possibly be certain."

Harry stared blankly at the table. There had to be something, _something_ that he could use to—

"Sirius isn't a Death Eater," he said suddenly. "Whoever it is – _if _this is the case – wouldn't – _couldn't_ – be stupid enough to bring back the best friend of James and Lily Potter if they're looking to gather an army for another war."

Minerva acknowledged his argument with a nod. "Yes. Like I said, I cannot possibly be sure, Harry. But this is the only link I can seem to find for an explanation. I am inclined to think that Sirius's case was an accident."

He stared. "An accident?"

"He may have found a way to slip through the cracks without them realizing. This is not a fully formed theory, Harry. But it seems to be the most likely explanation to me at the moment. I have gone through a mountain of research and wizarding theories, and they all seem to point me back to this. More than one book has suggested that it is more than possible for a very powerful wizard, using dark magic, to reach through the defences of the Veil and pull souls back from the dead."

The former Headmistress stopped speaking then, and Harry realized dully that she was actually bracing herself to say her next few words.

"The only way," Minerva said slowly, "that I have found to be able to fix this is a formation of very complex magic that requires the power of a group of five wizards, which I will explain in more detail if you are both willing to accept this theory. But the essential part of it is that _every_ dead soul taken from behind the Veil_ must_ be returned."

The unsaid implications of her words weighed heavily in the silence following her statement: _including Sirius._

Harry could feel Hermione looking at him anxiously, but he couldn't seem to draw his gaze away from his hands on his lap. The silence stretched uncomfortably.

Finally, Minerva placed the newspaper clippings between the pages of a heavy book and slid the tall tower across the table towards Hermione. "I don't want you to take my word for it, Potter, Granger," she said firmly, and Harry dimly registered the use of his last name. "Look through these. They're classified out of the Ministry library, but I will take care of that. Take your time. Be thorough, though I know you will, Hermione. If you can come up with a plausible alternative theory, I will gladly hear it."

When Harry remained motionless, Hermione accepted the books, shrinking them down and slipping them into her purse.

"One more thing," Minerva said. "May I suggest speaking to your godfather again, Harry, and get him to tell you what happened on the night he returned?" She waited, the silence weighing heavily on his shoulders, until he finally looked up. Her gaze pinned him to his seat. "What _really_ happened."

_She thinks he's hiding something, too._

When Minerva finally nodded at them in a clear gesture of dismissal, Hermione stood. Like a dream, Harry heard her thanking Minerva, and then he was being dragged out of the Headmistresses' office and down the hill towards the Hogwarts gates. He felt Hermione's arm come around his shoulder and the familiar sucking sensation of Side-Along Apparition. And then he was back in the living room of Grimmauld Place, still staring dumbly at his hands, and Sirius was beside him, looking worried, saying words he couldn't register. He tuned both his godfather and Hermione out and climbed upstairs to his room.

_Please let this be a dream._

###

In his own home, Remus was still sitting in a darkened kitchen. He hadn't moved since Tonks left, the same thought circling around his head like a shark circling its prey.

_Please let this be a dream._

###

That night, neither man slept.

* * *

**Well, that happened fast. Poor Harry and Remus! I'm sorry there was no Remus/Sirius action here, but there will be the next chapter! Please review. :)**


	12. Fresh Discoveries

**A/N: I've been on a writing bender for the past week and churned out another 6,000 words of this story. I thought it was a bit too long for one chapter so I've split it into two... the next chapter shall be coming shortly. :) This chapter is made up of little bits and pieces and seems a little all over the place but that will all come together in the end. Also, I would just like to say thank you all so much for 50+ reviews! That makes me so happy.**

* * *

It was ultimately the wail of a baby's cry the next morning that brought Remus back to reality.

Bouncing his son in his arms with a hand resting on Teddy's small back, Remus felt the vulnerability of his child sharper than ever. Jiggling Teddy up and down, he had to close his eyes and avoid using his baby boy as a pillow for his tears as the implications of what had happened between him and Tonks last night finally hit home.

"What have I done now, Teddy?" He whispered. His son looked at him with clear brown eyes, and he was startled at just how similar they were to Tonks's. Even the dark brown flecks in his eyes seemed to follow the same pattern. He had never noticed before. Teddy tilted his head to the side, contemplated his agonizing father, and let out a small hiccup.

"I'm sorry." Remus pulled Teddy closer, softly speaking the words with the hope that it would somehow wash the past twenty-four hours away if he only said it enough times. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

But it didn't, of course. The memory of what happened was etched firmly in Remus's mind, replaying itself like a black and white tape on loop, and nothing he did would erase them.

###

"I'm sorry, Ginny, he's still asleep."

"Well then, I'll go wake him up."

"No, um—I can't let you in."

"Hermione! I'm his girlfriend!"

"I _know_. Look, he doesn't want to see anyone right now. He's just a bit upset about something that happened yesterday. And besides, the house is a mess, he's redecorating, remember? There's plaster and paint everywhere, it's complete chaos…"

Hermione's voice petered out at the expression on the redhead's face. Ginny was standing on the doorstep of Grimmauld Place, her hair even more fiery than usual, and a fierce scowl on her face. Behind her, the streets were packed full of people, milling about London for a Saturday morning shopping spree, some casting curious glances up at the house as they past. She felt completely awful for needing to lie to Ron's sister.

"What's he upset about?" Ginny demanded. "I haven't heard from him in the last three days, Hermione. If something bad has happened I have to be there for him."

"Yes," Hermione agreed helplessly. "It's just—well. He, um—"

Ron appeared behind her at that moment. "Gin, hey! What are you doing here?" He clocked Hermione's look and remembered. "Oh, er, why don't we go out to a café and get a—uh—a coffee?" He raised his eyebrows to check with Hermione and she nodded emphatically. "Yeah, coffee," he said more confidently, "these Muggle café things are brilliant, Gin. You have to try a mosha."

"_Mocha_," Hermione corrected. "And yes, Ginny, go with Ron. I'll get Harry up and we'll come join you in a bit."

The mixture of confusion and anger on Ginny's face made Hermione wince. "What the hell's going on, Hermione?"

She looked despairingly at Ron.

"Come on, Gin, I'll tell you on the way to the café," Ron said hastily, taking his sister by the arm and half dragging her down the front steps. "See you there!" He called over his shoulder. He met Hermione's eyes, eyes slightly panicked, and mouthed: _What am I supposed to say?_

Feeling hopeless, Hermione widened her eyes in return. _Make it up_, she mouthed back.

Ron sighed, loping an arm over his sister's shoulder and leading her down the sidewalk as they attempted to blend in to the Muggles around them. _Bloody fucking hell. _

He really hoped this charade would end soon.

###

She watched Ron and Ginny disappear down the street, then slammed the front door shut and ran up the stairs, taking it two at a time. She made her way down the corridor and gave the door at the end of the hallway a cursory rap before walking unceremoniously inside and zeroing straight to the bed in the corner.

"Harry Potter! Get up!"

Hermione placed both hands on her waist and glowered at the bed in her best Molly Weasley impression.

"Your girlfriend is _looking _for you."

The lump under the bedcovers remained suspiciously still. Hermione grabbed hold of the sheet and yanked it backwards, then covered her face with her hands and groaned. There was a human-shaped Transfigured pillow lying where Harry should have been.

"Oh _honestly_." She contemplated the empty bed for a moment, foot tapping on the carpeted floorboards, then made up her mind. Pulling out her wand, she waved it in front of her and snapped, "_Expecto patronum_!"

###

Harry was, at that moment, standing on the doorstep of Remus and Tonks's house.

He hadn't been sure whether or not to come. But he needed to talk to _someone_, and for once he had a feeling that neither Ron nor Hermione would understand. Ginny was off the table because she still had no idea about Sirius. The only option left, really, had been Remus. And out of everyone, his old DADA professor would probably understand best the feeling of losing somebody close to you. Particularly if that someone was Sirius Black.

The silvery otter materialized a few feet in front of him just as he was getting up the nerve to knock. He watched it approach apprehensively, its glittering tail flapping in a brisk and very _Hermionesque_ manner, waiting.

It swam around him in a circle once, as if to check it was really him, then settled in front of him and Hermione's voice came through, high pitched with supreme irritation.

"Harry James Potter, if you've gone and done something idiotic, I will find you and I will make your life utter misery, are we clear? Ginny is looking for you, she knows something's going on. Now send me a back a message telling me where the hell you are and that you're fine, and send Ginny a message saying you're all right and that you'll speak to her soon. Do it _now_."

The otter vanished with a rather haughty flick of its tail.

He sighed, feeling peeved. He knew that if he didn't do as Hermione said she probably _could_ find him. Looking up Tonks's house probably wasn't too hard a conclusion to come to, anyway. Waving his wand, he did as Hermione asked, emphatically adding that he would return soon, _by himself_, so that she wouldn't come looking for him.

He did feel a twinge of guilt about Ginny – he knew he really hadn't been the best boyfriend for… well. Weeks now. He would probably have to do some groveling the next time he saw her.

Turning back to the door, he examined the flaking blue paint, then raised his hand, knocked and waited hopefully, praying Remus was home.

After two minutes, he knocked again.

He knocked again after five minutes.

He knocked for a fourth time at ten minutes, and had just turned away in despair when he heard the door swing open and Remus's voice, sounding overwhelmingly exhausted, cutting through the air: "Harry? Is something wrong?"

Relieved, Harry turned, ready to launch into an apology for disturbing him and a long-winded explanation, but was stopped short by Remus's appearance. His old professor looked like he had been through the third wizarding war, his face was drawn and haggard, shoulders slumped, with heavy bags under his eyes… and were those signs of _tears_? Blinking, trying to make sure it really _was_ Remus Lupin standing in front of him, he blurted out, "What in Godric's name happened to you?"

Remus looked at him for a moment, then shook his head, waving a hand to invite him in. "Nothing, Harry. I'm just a bit tired."

Harry followed him. "I think even Teddy could see through that lie, Remus."

The werewolf tensed at that, stopping in the middle of the living room, his hands resting on the back of a couch. Harry watched his fingers clench around the worn cloth until it looked like the top of the couch was about to explode.

"Er, Remus…?"

"It's over."

The words were said so softly Harry wasn't sure if he'd heard properly. "Excuse me?" He said, frowning.

Remus let go of the couch. Harry could see a deep imprint of the palms of his hands where they had been. Turning to Harry, Remus took a deep breath and repeated, "It's over."

Now he was sure he hadn't heard right. "What's over?" He asked, confused.

"My marriage."

Anything he was about to say died on his tongue. Harry stared; Remus avoided his gaze, squinting at his hands instead, his entire body tensed at an awkward angle and so shielded with defences that Harry couldn't read the expression on his face at all. Unsure of what to say, the only thing he could muster up was a weakly mumbled, "I'm sorry."

Remus shrugged. "It's… it'll blow over," he said.

The conversation with Ron a few weeks ago sprang into Harry's mind. He cast a hesitating glance at Remus. "Will it?"

Remus's shoulders slumped. He looked away and slowly slid down the back of the couch, like his legs no longer had the strength or energy to hold him upright. "It's over," he whispered. "What the hell am I going to do now, Harry?"

Feeling utterly hopeless and that the situation was far from what he was comfortable handling, Harry crouched down beside him awkwardly. "I don't know," he said honestly.

They simply sat there for a while, Harry keeping Remus company. He didn't know what the right response was to an announcement like that. What's more, he wasn't sure what the protocol was with wizard marriages—was there divorce in the wizarding world? He realized at that moment that he didn't know a single wizarding couple who had gotten a divorce. Couples who weren't happily married were widowed.

"Can you get a divorce?"

Remus swallowed. "Technically, yes. But it's rare for couples in the wizarding world to get divorced or separated after they are married. It's to do with the bonding ritual couples go through in the marriage ceremony – usually that connection is difficult to severe." He looked away.

Harry had to bite his tongue to stop himself from asking the next question. It had popped into his head seconds after he had processed what Remus was telling him, but even he could tell it probably wasn't the most sensitive thing to say at the moment.

"Does this have anything to do with Sirius?"

It took a moment for him to realize that he had spoken out loud. It had managed to slip out after all. He cursed himself silently; he could practically _hear _Hermione's voice in his head telling him that he had less tact than a teapot.

Remus didn't seem to have heard him. The man was staring blankly into space, like he had completely forgotten Harry was there.

"Remus?"

Nothing.

Just as he had decided to _Accio _a cup of tea for him, Remus shook his head. It was a slow movement, seemingly uncertain at first, then increased in strength as he became more determined. "No," he said firmly. "No, no it's not."

Harry fidgeted with the wand in his hands.

"It isn't. Dora and I were having problems far before I even found out that Sirius was—" Remus broke off, swallowed, before taking another breath to continue. "Alive. You know that, you asked me if my marriage was alright about a week ago. I'd say that wasn't completely out of the blue."

Harry flushed slightly. "Yeah, well, that was because Ron—" He stopped. _You and your big mouth, Potter._

Remus let out a huff of bitter amusement. "The influence of Molly Weasley, I'd wager. Looks like she was right."

It was _hard _watching the man that had mentored him in his youth look so broken. Harry sat up and waved his wand, catching the cup of tea that flew towards him. "Here, drink this," he said, shoving the cup into Remus's hands. "Look, maybe it's not all as final as you think. Maybe you should try talking to Tonks again."

Remus said nothing, cradling the cup in his hands like it was a newborn baby.

"I mean, you two were so in love two years ago, I remember how long you held out to date her in the first place—and now you're just going to let all of that go?" Harry really wasn't quite sure whether or not he was giving the right advice or saying the right things, but anything was better than sitting in this stifling silence for a second longer watching his old professor wallow.

Remus seemed to have gone mute again, staring at the same spot on the carpet.

Harry took a deep breath. "And what about Teddy?"

That seemed to have caught his attention. Harry could almost see the internal battle raging inside Remus's head, until finally the werewolf sighed.

"I might find Dora and talk to her again tomorrow night. Maybe we can work something out – for Teddy's sake."

Harry thought he would feel relieved. But he couldn't shake the nagging sensation at the back of his mind that somehow, he hadn't said the right thing, and that Remus's response didn't seem to lighten up the man's own feelings as it should have, either.

But he had never been good at these emotional talks. It was part of the reason he thought his own relationship with Ginny was doomed to fail. He could sense Hermione giving him an exasperated look and Ron shaking his head saying, "You should have stayed out of it, mate."

"Don't tell Sirius."

Harry paused, pulling himself out of his own thoughts, then blinked at Remus in surprise. He weighed his answer carefully. "Don't tell Sirius you and Tonks are separated, or don't tell Sirius you're planning to try and fix it?"

Remus looked at him evenly. "Both. I mean it, Harry. I'll tell him myself when I'm ready. Can you promise me that?"

He didn't really have a choice, anyway. "Promise," he said, giving Remus a nod.

"I don't suppose he'll feel too sympathetic about all this anyway. Marriage was never Sirius's thing."

They had just had what felt like hours of a heavy heart-to-heart, so it took a moment for the fog to lift and Harry to understand what Remus was _really _asking. He felt a smile tug at his lips, but managed to hold it back. "The only way to find out would be to tell him," he said nonchalantly.

"Bloody bastard," Remus muttered. "It would be so easy if I could blame this all on him."

He raised his eyebrows.

Upstairs, a sharp baby's cry carried down through to the living room and Remus jumped up immediately. "Thanks for coming by, Harry. I appreciate it, I really do." He started walking towards the door then paused and turned back, a slight frown creasing his forehead. "Oh, I'm sorry—did you want to talk to me about something when you came here?"

Harry hesitated. The Veil issue seemed to have faded to another lifetime ago. _You can figure out a solution by yourself, Harry. There's no evidence anywhere yet that Minerva's right. Don't jump to conclusions. Besides, Remus clearly has enough to worry about._

He forced a smile. "No, it was nothing. Don't worry about it."

Teddy's wails grew louder. Remus hesitated one more second. "You sure?"

Harry nodded.

"Right then. Would you mind letting yourself out? I have to…" Remus waved an arm vaguely towards the staircase.

Harry took the hint. "Sure, I have to be going anyway—there's a project I'm working on at the moment. Give Teddy a kiss for me."

He waited until Remus had disappeared up the stairs before taking out his wand and conjuring up his patronus.

"Tell Hermione to get ready all the books that Minerva gave us," he told the stag galloping around him, "and get Ron there, too. We've got a lot of work to do."

His patronus raised itself up on its hind legs, gave a toss of its antlers, then turned and cantered off into thin air.

Harry stowed his wand back into his pocket and headed for the front door. Sirius wouldn't be going back to the Veil. Not if he could help it.

###

"Anything?" Harry asked for what was possibly the fiftieth time that afternoon.

Hermione looked up from behind a wall of books, hair frazzled, expression a picture of irritation. "Since you asked sixty seconds ago? _No_, Harry. Nothing."

He sighed and leaned back on the back two legs of his kitchen chair, staring up at the ceiling.

It was so _unfair_. There had to be another explanation.

"I refuse to accept it," he said fiercely. "If you think Minerva's right, then we're going to have to find solid, hard proof before I will say it's true, and there's only one way to do that—"

Ron gave him a look of a man doomed to his death. "Oh no, please don't say—"

"—We're going to have to find one of the Death Eaters."

Ron let out a loud groan and buried his face in his arms.

Hermione looked apprehensive. "Harry, even if I thought this was a good idea, we wouldn't have the first clue where to look."

"The article on Greyback said he was in Europe."

"Yes, but that was almost _two months _ago, Harry. And I don't know how to break this to you, but Europe is kind of a big area."

"_Look_." It took Harry a moment to realize that he had shouted the word and had stood up, his chair falling backwards onto the floor. Both Ron and Hermione were looking at him warily now. He forced himself to calm down. "All these clippings, they're _speculations_. Not one of them has offered any hard evidence that one of these Death Eaters is alive. I'm sorry, but I can't go back to Minerva and help her perform a counter-spell for a problem that we don't even know for sure exists yet, in which case all it will do is send Sirius back behind the Veil."

There was a long pause.

Then Hermione let out a loud sigh. "I don't suppose we could talk you out of it now anyway."

Immensely relieved, Harry picked up his chair and sat down again. He picked up the bundle of newspaper clippings, flipping through the crumpled pieces of paper until he came to the last one. It was the article on the estate of Malfoy Manor, with the picture of Lucius staring coldly out at him.

He looked up when Hermione said, "Oh, Harry, I forgot to ask - what were you doing this morning at Remus's place anyway? You stayed there for quite a bit."

"Yeah, mate, _and _you made us come up with a story to tell Ginny on our own," Ron said indignantly. "We said you had hives and was too embarrassed to see her. I don't think she believed us at all. You're going to have to do some explaining to her."

Harry cringed. "Great," he muttered, staring back down at his lap, sensing both of them staring at him expectantly. "Oh, right… I just haven't seen Remus in a while, you know. Wanted to check up on him."

He had thought about telling Ron and Hermione about Remus's news, but had, for once, decided to refrain. It was Remus's business, after all. He also still couldn't shake the feeling that he had forgotten to say something important to Remus, and telling Ron and Hermione would subject him to half an hour of nagging for not telling them earlier followed by an in depth discussion of what went wrong with Remus and Tonks's relationship. He didn't feel like that discussion at the moment.

To avoid further questions, he bent over the newspaper clipping, rereading the article for what felt like the hundredth time.

_MALFOY MANOR OFF THE MARKET_

_The luxurious 10 bedroom apartment that has been the ancestral home of the Malfoys for the last fifteen generations is no longer on the market. It had been put for sale four months ago by current owner and proprietor Draco Malfoy, who inherited the property after the death of his parents. Malfoy himself has not lived in the estate since the end of the Final Battle, residing instead in the home of his old teacher and family friend, Severus Snape, also deceased from the war. Due to its heavy Death Eater connections, the property has never been sold, and interest in it has waned. There are several speculations as to why the property is no longer up for sale__…_

He stopped reading, a sudden prickling sensation telling him that he was missing a rather giant piece of clue.

He scanned the article again, frowning, waiting for it to click.

But of _course_.

Hermione was wrong. They did have a clue as to where to start.

Maybe his idea wasn't so crazy after all.

* * *

**I know I said Remus and Sirius would be spending some time together again in this chapter. I got a bit carried away and the story kind of took a turn in a direction I wasn't expecting. But I do have a plan here! Bear with me!**

**Any guesses as to what clue Harry's just picked up on?**


	13. Breaking Momentum

**A/N: Two new chapters in three days - that's a record for this story! If you guessed that the clue was something to do with Draco Malfoy, you are correct. If you guessed specifically it was looking for Draco at Snape's old home, then I take my hat off to you, my friend.**

* * *

Bright and early the following day, the three of them were standing at the front door of Spinner's End.

The houses that lined the street on either side were completely identical: they seemed grey and faded and listless, almost as though the town had given up on colour altogether. Harry felt Hermione give a shudder and move closer to Ron.

"So this is where Snape lived." Ron gave the house an apprehensive look. "No wonder he was so grim all the time. This place makes the Chamber of Secrets look like the ideal place for a party."

There was indeed a sense of ever-present doomed expectancy in the air, as if the people of the street expected the apocalypse to occur at any moment. Harry stared up at the front door of Snape's childhood home. Even in broad daylight the place had the ability to appear dark and forbidding. The curtains were drawn tight in the windows and the inside of the house looked completely quiet. It didn't seem like anyone was living here, much less Draco Malfoy.

He couldn't imagine Draco Malfoy, rich and obnoxious daddy's boy, living here at all.

For a moment, he considered going back, but the thought banished itself almost as quickly as it came. He needed to find proof. Malfoy could give it to him. Or at least, point him in the right direction.

To his left, he heard Hermione let out a drawn out sigh. "Harry, I don't think anyone lives here anymore."

"We don't know until we knock," he said, refraining from telling her that the same thought had crossed his mind mere seconds ago.

"Minerva said he's vanished without a trace, and so did the article in the _Prophet_. I don't think he'd have gone to the trouble of disappearing if he was just going to show up again at a place where people apparently know to look for him. If you'll just think about it logically—"

He knew Ron had given Hermione a sharp nudge when she let out a muffled squeak and fell silent. Feeling a wave of gratefulness to his best mate, he indicated the door. "Shall we?"

Reluctantly, Ron and Hermione followed as he went up the front steps and gave the door a few hesitant knocks.

There was no response.

He knocked again hopefully.

The entire street was eerily silent, and the house remained no different.

Harry sighed, feeling the hope he had been holding on to waver and diminish.

Looking up Draco Malfoy had seemed like such a brilliant idea. The man owed him one, first of all, because he had testified for him at his Wizengamot trial. Harry felt sure that if he could be found, Malfoy would be sure to help. He stared at the door. "Maybe there's a clue inside as to where he's gone," he said. He reached for the doorknob.

"Harry," Hermione said sharply. "Stop. There could be a trap here."

"And besides," Ron added, "let's try to avoid breaking and entering until we have no choice left, eh?"

Harry still had one hand resting on the doorknob. He released it slowly.

He felt Hermione tugging gently at his arm. "Let's go, Harry," she coaxed. "We'll find something else."

As the trio headed back down the street, Harry casting one last glance back in the hopes that he would catch sight of something he had missed the first time – perhaps a flicker in the curtains or a shadowy movement – but the house appeared as solid and grim as the ones next to it, gradually fading in with the bleary sky. He turned away, disappointment swimming in his stomach.

They had been close, he could feel it. But not close enough.

###

Remus stood in front of the bathroom sink, examining his reflection in the mirror. A night's sleep in bed hadn't helped; he saw clearly the lines on his forehead and the bags weighing under his eyes. He had stayed under the covers past noon, hoping each time that he could somehow transport himself to another reality each time he reopened his eyes. It was now three in the afternoon, and he was feeling no better.

The sink was still scattered with Tonks's toiletry. Her toothbrush—pink as an ode to her hair—still stood next to his. Her shampoo and conditioner were still in the shower; and there were about twenty bottles of different substances that crowded the windowsill. Wizarding potions for women looked very different to the regular bottles of cream and whatnot that Muggles used—Tonks's particular collection was a collection of different shapes and sizes; some of them glittered, and some of them smoked.

He'd told Harry he would talk to Tonks tonight.

There hadn't been any other option to say. He couldn't tell Harry about the real reason behind his separation with Tonks. If Harry had asked, he would have said they'd drifted apart.

He definitely wouldn't have said anything about an affair.

_Technically, she's never confirmed it._

But she hadn't denied it, either. And that in itself was a confirmation, wasn't it?

Anger rushed up in him, fast and furious, and he lashed out before he could stop himself. The bathroom echoed with the sounds of broken glass as twenty different bottles crashed from the sill; bottles fell into the sink and burst into smithereens on the floor.

He froze, staring at the mess he had made in horror.

In the room next door, Teddy began to cry, clearly disturbed by the commotion.

Remus leapt over the broken pieces of glass and the pooling mixture of potions. He would clean it up later. Maybe he'd take Teddy out for a walk. Right now, he needed the fresh air.

He didn't notice the small vial of lightly smoking blue potion that lay broken at the bottom of the pile as he left.

###

Sirius was sitting in his room in Grimmauld Place. There was a slight crease in his forehead and a nagging sensation at the back of his neck that he couldn't shake.

Generally, he was a man who liked to keep things simple. He was straight with his emotions, he liked to live carefree and open. When he did things, he put his whole heart and soul into it. This open-faced honesty and sincerity was probably what had allowed him to sustain for so many years in Azkaban.

He didn't like to lie. And strictly speaking, he hadn't been _lying _to Harry about how he had returned from the Veil. It was more of a situation of neglecting to mention a few key details (that was a pretty good Marauder twist on it, he mused). There were two reasons why he had yet to come clean: the first was that he knew what the consequences would be, and the second was Remus.

Remus Lupin had been much of an enigma to Sirius in their first year of Hogwarts. The werewolf had appeared to be such a shy, indrawn boy, hardly socializing at all. It took a year for Sirius, James and Peter to really pull Remus from his shell and discover his secret. After that, Remus had seemed like a completely different person, living up to the Marauders' name.

Sirius wouldn't be able to pinpoint the exact moment he fell in love with him; it happened gradually, like building bridge, bit by bit it grew until one day, the bridge connected and he woke up with a new realization. He remembered the time in their fourth year when he had swooped Remus from the ground and flown him around the Quidditch pitch, the feeling of the other boy's body pressed close to his. Was that when it started? He couldn't tell. He only knew that when he found out, there was no going back. When he did things, he put his whole heart and soul into it. And he loved Remus completely.

There had been bumps along the road, of course. But they had come through all of it, and without Remus, Sirius would never have survived the house arrest Dumbledore had put him in during Harry's fourth and fifth year. And then they had started talking about the future – a brief, shining light in the darkness, before Sirius had fallen through the Veil.

He finally had the chance to make things right. Then he had found out Remus was married.

Sirius gave himself a shake. It was all in the past now. It couldn't be undone. And if Remus was happy, so was he.

It only seemed to Sirius like Remus wasn't.

He frowned and gave himself a shake again. _Don't be a jealous bastard, Sirius. _

But still, he couldn't shake the hovering sensation of inevitability that was crowding him slowly. The last time he had gotten it was the split second before he fell behind the Veil, it was the knowledge that something was about to go very wrong.

He wracked his mind, but he couldn't think of what the feeling could be referring to now.

Unless…

Today's _Prophet _was lying on his bed. He picked it up and starting looking for the information he wanted.

###

Harry, Ron and Hermione were back with the books and the newspaper clippings an hour later, the kitchen table littered with dusty pages and book jackets, coffee cups increasing exponentially as the time went by. Upstairs, Harry could hear Sirius's footsteps pacing back and forth on the floorboards above the kitchen. He wondered briefly what was preoccupying his godfather as he searched through past issues of the _Daily Prophet _for clues as to the whereabouts of Draco Malfoy. Beside him, Ron was similarly occupied, with Hermione sitting next to him with her nose immersed in a thick book, determined to root out other means of finding evidence.

There had to be a way to locate him. They were wizards, after all. They knew magic. It seemed ridiculous that a man could still completely disappear.

"Who did he keep in touch with?" Ron burst out in exasperation, an hour into their research. "Maybe we can ask one of his friends."

Hermione snorted inelegantly. "Like who, Goyle? Pansy Parkinson? Oh yes, I'm sure they'll be more than happy to help, Ron. And besides, we don't know their whereabouts either—the media only likes to keep track of the people who were against Voldemort."

"If you ask me, Malfoy only partly qualifies," Ron muttered. "And a small part at that. He changed alliances at the last minute! I dunno why people count him as one of the heroes."

"Ronald, it takes a lot of courage to turn against Voldemort—"

Harry was only half listening to their conversation, busy flipping through pages of the _Prophet_. His mind caught up with the conversation in delayed time and he stopped flipping.

_I dunno why people count him as one of the heroes__…_

He finally had a brainwave.

Digging out his wand, he _Accio_-ed a copy of _The Quibbler_ that Sirius had sent Remus (who had returned it a week ago, muttering something about faithless friends), and turned haphazardly to the story about the heroes of the war, tearing a few pages in his excitement. Ron and Hermione had stopped bickering and was watching him curiously.

"Come on, come on…" He was sure he'd seen it a few weeks ago, back when he'd flicked through it briefly before Sirius took it, in the list of the names of… "_Aha!_" Triumphant, he jabbed a finger at the entry and pushing it across the table. It was the article that discussed the whereabouts of the heroes of the war, six months later – the same article that Sirius had circled for Remus. Hermione picked up the magazine and started reading out loud:

"_Draco Malfoy – Seen throughout his school years as a pure blooded Slytherin and ally of the Dark Lord, he changed allegiance just before the Final Battle_"—Ron snorted—"_although the alliance of his mother and father remained more ambiguous. He seems to have disappeared in the last month or so; last we heard he was training to be a Healer at St Mungo's._"

Harry blinked in astonishment. "Malfoy wants to be a _Healer_?"

Ron shuddered. "I'd hate to be one of his patients. Remind me not to get any injuries for the rest of my life."

"This was at least two months ago, Harry," Hermione said. The exhaustion in her voice was plain. "Don't you think if he was still training at St Mungo's he wouldn't be counted as having disappeared?"

"We could at least go to St Mungo's and ask," said Harry. "Where's the harm, Hermione? He might have actually told them where he'd gone."

She shot him a look. "First, I highly doubt that he would have, and second, the _harm_ is that St Mungo's is a public place. If Minerva's theory is true, sniffing around asking for Draco Malfoy's whereabouts in the most well known wizarding hospital might get the attention of the Death Eaters, and they might attack sooner."

"We don't even know if there _are_ Death Eaters," Harry mumbled sulkily.

"Harry—"

"_Hermione_. We agreed we need proof. And at the moment, we still haven't got any leads as to where to look. So we're either going to St Mungo's or we're forgetting this entire theory altogether." He saw the skepticism on their faces and attempted his best puppy-dog look."Please?"

Hermione exchanged a long look with Ron. Finally, she threw up her hands in exasperation. "I'm sorry Harry, but have you thought about the fact that Malfoy might be _back_ on the dark side now? We already took a risk going to Spinner's End. It has been eight months, Harry. And his life isn't really in peril now. He could be hiding under the cover of a Healer while making other connections for all we know, and looking him up—assuming we_ do_ find him, which I still think is highly improbable—might make everything worse."

"We have to try," he said stubbornly. "I don't think he has. My gut feeling says he hasn't."

He could tell exactly what she thought about his _gut feeling_, but thankfully didn't choose to voice it. He watched as she let out a sigh of defeat, tugging on strands of frizzy hair. "Oh all right. We said we'd help. And you're right, we shouldn't do this without proof."

He waited.

"We'll go to St Mungo's tomorrow," Hermione said finally. "And take it from there."

He turned to Ron.

The redhead looked like he was completely convinced that there was no way on earth this would lead to a good result, but to his credit, still managed to sound sincerely supportive. "Let's do it."

He nodded gratefully. "Thanks, both of you."

Hermione grumbled something about being the _golden trio_, beginning to stack the books back together in one neat pile.

Just then, he heard Sirius's footsteps approaching the kitchen. He made to reach for his wand, but Hermione was faster: the research and the newspaper clippings vanished before he even moved. "Must improve your reflexes, Harry," she said smugly.

He let it go. She had just agreed to go hunting for Draco Malfoy with him, after all.

Sirius wandered into the kitchen seconds later, a copy of the day's _Prophet _tucked under one arm, trying and failing to look casual. He sat down at the table without preamble, cleared his throat, and said, "Have you spoken to Remus recently?"

Harry glanced sideways at his godfather in surprise, wondering if he had suddenly developed the skill to be an Occlumens. He shifted from one foot to the other. "Er, why?" He said, carefully avoiding the question altogether.

Sirius was frowning as he flipped through the _Prophet_, finally arriving at the page he wanted and spreading it on the table: the astronomy page. He was jabbing his finger at the calendar of full moons. "It's supposed to be the full moon tonight, starting at six. And I haven't seen him for over a week… I mean, I know he doesn't need me there anymore, but I don't know, I have this feeling…"

Hermione looked up sharply at that. "You can't go, Sirius."

Harry saw his godfather's shoulders tense, and winced. Hermione still had the tendency to snap into bossy demands when she was under pressure, and often forgot that when she spoke to people that way who _weren't_ Harry and Ron, they resented it. But he couldn't help feeling just the slightest tinge of relief at not needing to provide any extra explanations.

"Something's wrong," Sirius said. "I can feel it."

"Oh, you men and your gut feelings!" Hermione snapped. "Why can't you make decisions based on _facts_? If Remus needed you to be there, Sirius, he would have asked you. He has the Wolfsbane now, he's fine."

"His transformations can kill him if something bad has happened to him!" Sirius yelled, causing all three of them to recoil. "Even if it's emotional trauma, it can cause his wolf side to destroy the human when he's not in control of his body. It might overcome the potion."

Hermione opened her mouth, possibly with the intent to provide a long and overdrawn explanation of the technicalities of the Wolfsbane potion to Sirius, but Harry interrupted.

"Hermione," he said sharply.

She wavered, then sighed. "I'm sorry, Sirius. Just a bit tense. Things at work have been stressful recently." She shot Harry a pointed look.

His godfather shrugged noncommittally. "It's fine. It's just… something isn't right here. I'm not sure what."

Harry was frowning, thinking back over the conversation he'd had with Remus yesterday.

"_I might find Dora and talk to her again tomorrow night. Maybe we can work something out – for Teddy's sake."_

He'd said that yesterday… that meant he had been planning to talk to Tonks today.

_So what if Remus had talked about making plans for tonight?_ Harry thought. That didn't mean that he had necessarily forgotten about the full moon.

Did it?

_You're reading too much into it, Harry. He'd never forget about a full moon when he's himself. The last time he did was in your third year, and there was a lot going on then, with Sirius's escape from Azkaban and Pettigrew alive__…_

But that was just it, wasn't it?

_He's not exactly himself now either. And there's even more going on now than then, if that's possible._

He thought about the house Remus lived in. If he actually transformed, the werewolf might find a way out of the house and onto the streets of London. If there was a passerby just walking past the house at that moment, or a mother, or a child…

_Teddy_.

"Harry? Are you alright?"

Harry realized he had gone completely still. His blood felt like it had turned to ice.

He shot up from the couch and hurried to the window, peering out. The sun was just starting to set. The minute hand on his watch ticked to 5.45pm.

He couldn't take the chance.

"Sirius, you have to go to Remus's house," he said urgently.

Sirius turned to him, eyes wide. "What?"

"I—" Harry stopped, feeling desperate. A promise was a promise. "Remus… I think he might have forgotten to take his potion tonight," he said. "And… I know he's had some really upsetting news yesterday and he's still a bit of a mess. I can't tell you any more than that, I'm sorry, I promised I wouldn't, but you have to go over there because if he does transform without the potion, Teddy is there and—" He didn't have to continue, Sirius was already heading towards the front door.

"Harry, he can't just walk there!" Hermione cried.

He turned and looked at his best friends. Ron's brow as creased in confusion and Hermione looked like she was about to chew her lip off. He realized how desperate he must have sounded for her to skip over any demands of explanations and jump straight to problem solving.

"We'll Apparate," he said firmly. "I won't go in the house, just drop you off outside."

He didn't wait to see Sirius's nod. Grabbing his godfather by the arm he turned on the spot, feeling his blood pulsing through his veins. For the second time that day, he landed on Remus's doorstep, coming face to face with the faded blue door. It remembered feeling desperate that morning. That was nothing compared to what he was feeling now.

He could see the last rays of burning amber peaking between the buildings of London.

He spoke quickly. "Okay, listen. Teddy's room is upstairs, first door on the left. Tonks and her mother aren't home right now so it should just be Remus in there. You need to find him. Usually he takes his potion and locks himself in the basement, so check there first – if he's there then everything should be alright, and you can leave. If he's not, you have to try and get him to take the potion before six." He hesitated, one eye pinned to his watch, and added urgently, "Sirius, if he's in the basement and he's taken the potion… don't go in and talk to him, okay? Send me a message and let me know. If he sees you while he's transformed, even under the influence of the potion, I don't know what effect you'll have on him right now."

His godfather had been nodding up until the last remark. Sirius paused, searching Harry's face. "What happened, Harry?"

Harry shook his head. The sun had almost disappeared, a tiny sliver of pink and gold was visible behind some buildings. "If he hasn't taken the potion in time…" He paused, feeling his throat close up. He was sweating, and he couldn't remember feeling such a strong sense of fear since the start of the Final Battle over six months ago. He cleared his throat and tried again. "You need to get him in a room and magically seal all the exits. It could be a pretty rough transformation. I can't tell you why, Sirius. But you have to go in, _now_. Here, take these." He fished in his pocket for the spare key, then grabbed his wand and handed both items to Sirius. He gave his godfather a look. "Be careful."

Sirius nodded. A moment later, he had disappeared inside. Harry heard the door lock.

He watched the last rays of sunshine get swallowed up behind the buildings, and the street lights spring on. He checked his watch again, heart pounding so hard it felt like it would pound right out of his chest. 5.55pm.

He'd never wished that he was wrong harder in his life than he did now.

He was so preoccupied that he didn't notice the man leaning on the brick wall a little ways across the street, arms crossed, watching closely for sometime now. If Harry had turned around, he would have noticed that the man was dressed in the best and most prestigious wizarding robes found in London, and that even in the darkness his blond hair gleamed like a halo, framing a narrow face that carried a very familiar smirk.

But he didn't turn, and by the time six o'clock chimed and Harry spun on the spot to Disapparate, Draco Malfoy had gone.

* * *

**See that cliff? We're dangling off it now. Couldn't help myself! There's exciting times ahead...**

**Please review!**


	14. New Transformations

**A/N: A short chapter, but I think I make up for it with content. ;) Oh and also, in case you didn't notice, I went through and named all my chapters. No particular reason really, except it makes it a lot easier for me to find particular parts of the story to refer back to. This chapter picks up from Remus's POV a little bit before the end of the last chapter.**

* * *

Remus returned home at 5.40pm, pushing Teddy's stroller and feeling marginally better after having gone out in the fresh air. He put Teddy to bed and then headed back downstairs, wondering when he should go and find Tonks. _She won't be home from work this early._

He couldn't quite help the bitter afterthought: _if it's work at all._

Come to think of it, he actually didn't know where she had gone to stay. Her parents seemed to be the best bet; Andromeda had not contacted him since the night Tonks had returned home early. He should probably Fire-call first - and send a message to Harry to ask if he could watch Teddy for the night.

His mind busy with arrangements, he stopped short as he took the last step of the stairs and stared. Sirius was coming out of his living room, a wand in his hand, peering around frantically. Remus's heart leapt and he cursed himself. _Pull it together, Lupin, damn it._

The moment the Animagus caught sight of him, he launched into a stream of words that simply flew right over Remus's head.

"Sirius," he managed to croak over Sirius's ranting, when he found his voice, "what the hell are you doing here? Who let you _in_?"

Sirius was pointing at the clock on the wall and words were coming out of his mouth frantically but Remus couldn't understand what he was saying. Finally, Sirius took a deep breath, looking like he was attempting some sort of yoga exercise by keeping himself calm with sheer will, and said clearly, succinctly, "Did you take your Wolfsbane potion?"

The implications of Sirius's words and his presence in his house hit Remus with the force of a full body bind. He stared in horror as images played out in his mind: the full moon calendar he had completely forgotten about hanging in his bedroom, his violent rash of anger this afternoon, broken bottles on the bathroom floor, and the final thought that constricted his chest: _Teddy_.

He swallowed, not knowing how on earth to begin telling Sirius any of the conclusions he had just realized, but Sirius appeared to understand. The Animagus gestured wordlessly to the stairs leading to the basement. "Get in there first. I'll get the potion – where is it?"

Remus's limbs seemed to have stopped working altogether; it seemed to be another man speaking. "It broke. I—this morning. Accidentally. It was in the bathroom."

There was a pause as Sirius digested this.

Remus took a deep breath. "What time?" He said, heart pounding. _Maybe I can—_

"Five minutes," Sirius said harshly. "There's no time. Just get in the basement, I'll seal all the exits and add some magical protection to Teddy's room for good measure, all right?"

Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. "Are you—what about—"

"Remus." Sirius gripped his shoulders hard, nails digging in, pinning him with an intense stare. "It's going to be alright. Just go to the basement and get ready. I'll be down in two minutes."

Remus started shaking his head. "No, stay with Teddy—"

"You need me."

Sirius said it matter-of-factly, like it was something Remus should have already known, that it was something long understood. Remus opened his mouth to protest, but closed it again.

_He's right._

He did need Sirius. If his wolf side got too out of control, magical barriers were nothing for a dark creature's powers. He needed Padfoot to keep him calm.

He nodded wordlessly to Sirius, turning and quickly heading to the basement without waiting to see Sirius's expression. Confusion and a rising sense of panic was clouding every thought but he fought it, trying to maintain rational, knowing that the more torn up he was inside before he transformed then the worse off he would be afterwards. He didn't know how Sirius knew to be here, but the thought that he was here with him somehow soothed him: Remus trusted him. He entered the basement, mechanically stripping his shirt and locking the basement window. It was one of the emptiest rooms in the house, expressly only used by Remus for his transformations, although they had always been under the Wolfsbane influence. There was a tattered armchair in one corner and small single bed next to it. He sat down on the bed and waited.

Sirius came into the room a few moments later. The Animagus paused for a moment in the doorway, and Remus saw his lean body silhouetted against the light, the tension in his jaw, the way his hand gripped the wand tight enough to break it. Neither man said a word as Sirius closed the door behind him, locked it, and muttered string of protection charms. Remus could feel the magic in the air.

He felt the familiar prickling sensation that warned him his transformation was about to start. He opened his mouth in warning, but Sirius had already transformed himself into Padfoot, and Remus was again reminded of the Animagus's ability to know his own thoughts before he did. The shaggy black dog wagged its tail in a show of support and sauntered a little closer.

Remus could feel his bones shifting, enlarging, cracking. Before the pain completely took over, his final thought was how unfair it was that Sirius's dog form still had the same mesmeric puppy dog eyes as it did twenty years ago.

###

It was one of Remus's most brutal transformations that Sirius had witnessed. Possibly second to the first transformation Remus had gone through after Sirius's betrayal in their fifth year at Hogwarts—Sirius had been expressly forbidden to go to that transformation, but James had reported back afterwards, and every detail had seemed like a sword stab. Now in the musky basement of the Lupins' home, even in his dog form he could almost feel the pain that was radiating off the man in waves, watching as the hair on his skin sprouted and lengthened, the structure of his face morphed into the wolf's, his body broadening. Briefly, Padfoot's mind registered the familiar smells and process of the ritual, the word _Moony _floating in and out of consciousness.

And then there was no more time for thinking as the transformation was complete; the werewolf whirled around in a low crouch, a low growl emitting from its throat. It surveyed the black dog standing a few feet away, then turned towards the door.

Padfoot threw all his energy into keeping the werewolf at bay. Again and again the werewolf headed for the door, the window, clearly able to scent the humans outside, and again and again Padfoot blocked the attempts. The werewolf was livid, yellow eyes flashing, saliva dribbling from its jaws – it had been too long since it had been able to completely take over its human side, and it reveled in its newfound freedom.

###

At Grimmauld Place, Harry could not stop pacing. Time was moving at an agonizingly slow pace. Sitting on the couch, Hermione had one of Ron's hand in a death grip and was rapidly chewing the nails off the other.

There were brief flashes of conversation that broke through the tense silence, flung back and forth at rapid speed.

"Why hasn't he sent a message?"

"Harry, please, just calm down—"

"I gave him a wand and he knows magic! Why hasn't he let us know everything's fine?"

"Maybe something's happened, and he didn't have time."

"You think Remus has transformed without the Wolfsbane?"

"Well…"

"It's been an hour."

"Yes."

Hermione exchanged helpless looks with Ron. Harry sat down on the edge of the couch, then promptly stood up and started pacing again.

###

Moony aimed, once again, for the basement door, and once again Padfoot leapt in front, rising on his hind legs, placing both paws on the werewolf's shoulders. The werewolf let out a howl of anger and turned on the dog, the animal that would not stop pestering him, and wolf and dog rolled on the dusty basement ground, vying for dominance. The basement echoed with the sounds of snapping jaws and growling snarls.

###

"I'm going over there."

"You can't, Harry."

"Maybe Sirius needs help."

"You can't—Harry, get back here, it's too dangerous!"

"You wouldn't be able to help him anyway, mate. If Remus has transformed without the Wolfsbane he'd bite you if he got the chance."

"What if—"

"Don't even go there, Harry. Come and sit down, all right? We'll hear from Sirius soon."

Harry slumped away from the doorway reluctantly. He sat down on the couch next to Hermione and managed to stayed quiet for about ten minutes.

"_Why hasn't he sent a message?_"

Hermione gave Harry's hand a comforting squeeze, and the three sat in silence, the sound of the grandfather clock in the hallway ticking hauntingly loudly in the background.

###

Then the werewolf started hurting itself. Unable to leave the confines of the basement, he ran its claws down its chest and up its arms, howling in despair. Padfoot tried his best to keep Moony from doing too much harm, yet was flung off easily every time he tried to get close. But the dog never wavered, coming back time after time, until there were just as many scratches on him as there was on the werewolf's own body.

And then, finally, finally—a ray of sunlight broke over the horizon.

###

Ron had fallen asleep on the couch, his head resting on Hermione's shoulder, and Harry had almost memorized the intricate pattern on the carpet when the silvery dog appeared, padding towards them out of thin air. Harry shot up immediately while Hermione gave Ron a sharp nudge.

Sirius's voice sounded exhausted. "Remus transformed without the Wolfsbane. Everything's fine now. Teddy's unharmed. I've got a few scratches but otherwise I'm OK. Worried about Remus, though. If you could bring over some food that would be good."

The dog vanished.

Harry collapsed back onto the couch. Hermione let out a shrill laugh.

"Right," Harry said, relief punctuating every word, "I'm going to order some pizza and bring it over. You two coming?"

Hermione shook her head with a smile. "I don't think Remus will be up to seeing so many people at the moment. We'll drop in later today though. Right now I think I'm going to try and get some sleep before work."

"Yeah, I've got Quidditch training in—" Ron checked his watch and blanched. "—One hour. Bloody hell."

The three of them stared at each other for a moment, before Harry grinned. "They're OK," he said, letting out a long breath.

His best friends left; Hermione giving him a quick hug and Ron clapping him on the shoulder with a beaming smile, leaving Harry alone in the living room of Grimmauld Place with the sense that his life could resume once again.

###

The first thing Remus saw when he opened his eyes was sunlight streaming in through the window. He was lying on the bed in the basement with a sheet pulled up to his waist. He heard the sound of water splashing next to him and he turned to see Sirius dipping a towel in a pan of water, squeezing out the excess, then dabbing it onto an unseen area of his chest. He flinched as sharp pain fully woke his senses and reminded him with horrifying clarity where he was and what had happened.

Sirius glanced up. "Oh hey, you're awake. How do you fee—"

"Where's Teddy?" Remus sat up and grabbed Sirius's arm in a death grip, ignoring the immediate protest his body made and the stinging pangs of pain. "Is he—did I—" Terror gripped at him and the words died on his tongue.

Sirius winced, loosening Remus's fingers. "Teddy is fine, Remus, I just checked on him fifteen minutes ago. You didn't leave this room last night, alright? Teddy slept like a baby." He paused, one side of his mouth twitching. "Get it? He's a baby, and he slept like a baby…" He grinned sheepishly at Remus's look of disbelief.

"You mean I didn't…?"

Sirius pressed a hand on top of his and spoke gently. "No, Remus."

The sensation of wonderful relief that flooded through him made Remus feel giddy, and he felt his entire body relax. He looked down to see that Sirius's hand was still on his and he flushed, pulling his own hand away quickly. Another stinging reminder made him glance at his chest and he winced. New scars crisscrossed over the old ones that had long faded, fresh lines running all over his chest like a checkerboard, and he looked away.

He looked back when he felt the warm towel back on his body; Sirius was concentrating on his task, carefully cleaning another angry looking wound.

Emotions welled up in his throat and Remus had to clear his throat before he could speak. "You can just use magic, you know."

Sirius reached behind him and brought forward a long roll of bandages. "Yeah, but it's more romantic this way, Moony." He winked, and Remus felt a jolt in his chest that had nothing to do with the pain.

Sirius began winding a strip of bandage around his chest. "So how are you feeling?"

Remus lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. "No worse than the transformations I used to get at Hogwarts, I suppose." In all honesty he was surprised, he had thought this transformation would have left him in a state that was a lot worse.

_It's because Sirius was there._

Remus swallowed again. "Sirius—Padfoot—I just wanted to say…" He exhaled. "Thank you. A lot. Without you, I don't know what would have—"

"Oh, can it, Moony," Sirius focused on his task. His voice seemed light, but Remus could hear the underlying discomfort. "What are Marauders for?"

Remus didn't say anything, watching Sirius as he continued to unroll long yards of white bandage. He knew the question that would be coming.

It was a while before Sirius finally voiced it. "Did something bad happen recently, Remus? If you've forgotten to take your Wolfsbane, usually it means you're not yourself…"

Remus focused on the wall behind Sirius's head. He made sure that his voice was even when he answered, "Dora and I broke up."

Sirius's face whipped up to stare at him. "You… really?"

Remus nodded slowly, avoiding his eyes.

The Animagus was still staring, the rest of the bandages lying forgotten on the bed. "When Harry said… whoa. That is—I mean, I wasn't expecting that."

There was a long pause. Remus couldn't quite bring himself to meet Sirius's gaze, choosing instead to fix his attention on a hole in the bed sheet. He waited for Sirius to ask him the reason.

But that wasn't what Sirius asked. Instead, Remus felt the bed creak under Sirius's weight as he sat down on the bed next to him, heard him whisper so close that he could feel his breath on his skin, "Remus, look at me."

When Remus met the familiar eyes, open and accepting in a way that it never was with anyone else, he heard warning bells in his head even as he found himself leaning forward, until their noses were almost touching.

The question, when it came, was tinged with longing and thick with want. "Is this what you want, Remus?"

There could have been a number of things Sirius was referring to—he could have been asking if his breakup with Tonks was what he wanted, if this was the life that he had wanted, if _this_—this moment with Sirius was what he wanted. But Remus knew that Sirius's question encompassed all over those. He knew it the same way that he knew Sirius wasn't lying when he said Teddy was OK, he knew it the way that he knew he would probably have to rewrap all the bandages on his body again because Sirius, no matter what he claimed, really couldn't do it properly. He knew it because he knew while Sirius was explicitly referring to the last option, answering it would answer the other two questions as well.

And Remus couldn't help thinking that it was a stupid question, because of _course _it was what he wanted. He knew it was because he had never quite stopped wanting it—he had buried the feelings when Sirius had died, when he had gotten married, and ignored it when he met Sirius again after he had returned from the Veil. But they had always been there, underneath everything else.

There were so many other factors to take into account. But somehow at that moment, Remus couldn't think of any of them. So, with all of his infinite knowledge, Remus gave a hesitant nod.

That was all Sirius needed. The Animagus leaned forward the last few centimeters and lightly brushed their lips together.

At that moment there was a loud knocking on the basement door and Harry's voice rang through, loud and impatient: "Hey! Sirius, Remus, you in there? I brought food!"

Remus heard Sirius mutter a string of expletives under his breath. He leaned back and made to go to the door, but paused, searching Remus's face.

"We can talk about this later, all right, Moony?"

All Remus could do was nod, because Harry was still knocking impatiently and it didn't seem like his mind could have strung together anything coherent at that moment anyway.

Sirius gave him one last look, then went to let Harry in.

* * *

**Honestly, I went back and forth for ages wondering whether or not I should have included the kiss and whether or not it was out of character. I justified it to myself by thinking that Remus would be highly emotional and unstable after his transformation and more likely to give in to his feelings. What this tells me is that 1) I need a life and 2) I don't care about (1) because I was smiling all the way through writing the end of this chapter! And yes, Harry did have to ruin it.**

**Please review! :)**


	15. Unexpected Guests

**A/N: Wow, I can't believe it's been a month. Sorry this took so long! Life, uni, work; the cycle never ends. In other news, I found out recently that a friend of mine went to a talk where one of the panelists was a guy doing his PhD on slash fanfiction. I did not know people did PhDs on slash fanfiction and I found this quite fascinating. And it somehow seemed relevant to share with you. (So, you know, if you're planning on doing a PhD and you're stuck on a thesis... well.) It also reminded me that I haven't updated this fic for a while.**

**Anywho, here's the next chapter! **

* * *

Toting two large boxes of pizza under one arm, Harry stood outside the basement door for a good five minutes before it was finally opened.

Sirius's expression, when he finally emerged, was one of barely concealed irritation mingled with ecstatic excitement. It made for a very odd combination. Harry stepped backwards as his godfather came out into the hallway, closed the door behind him, and promptly turned what he was sure Sirius meant to be a look of murder on him but which effect was ruined because his godfather couldn't quite stop the corner of his mouth from crooking up into a smile.

"I swear to Merlin, Harry, you have the _worse _timing a bloke could ask for," Sirius hissed.

Feeling like he had missed a large chunk of information, he whispered back, "What did I do?"

If Sirius hadn't looked so torn, Harry would have laughed at the dramatic expressions battling for dominance on his face. Finally all he said was, "Nothing. Just interrupted us talking, that's all."

He was obviously lying, but Harry decided to address the other question on his mind first. "Why are we whispering?"

That made Sirius pause for a moment. Then wordlessly, he gestured for Harry to head back up the stairs. It wasn't until they reached the kitchen that Sirius spoke again at a normal volume.

"Didn't want to disturb Remus. I don't think he wants anyone to see him at the moment, he looks—well," Sirius lounged on a kitchen chair, resting a leg on the chair next to it, casually flipping up the lid of one of the pizza boxes. "_I_ think he still looks gorgeous, but he is a bit scratched up." He winked at Harry and took a big bite of pizza. "Hey, this is really good. What topping is it?"

Harry watched the slice of pizza rapidly disappear. Something wasn't quite clicking here. "It's just plain cheese."

"Really?" Sirius laughed. "Wow, we gotta order from this place again."

Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "I've been ordering from the same place for months."

"Really? That's amazing." Sirius reached for another slice.

He scrutinized his godfather. "Are you alright?"

"What? Of course I am. I told you, I only got a few scratches—"

"No, not that. You're grinning like an idiot. I haven't seen you smile for this long since—well, since you got back. And you've never commented on the pizza before."

"Well, this is really good—"

"—Pizza, yeah I get it." Harry tapped one foot impatiently on the ground. "What's going on?"

Sirius reached for his third slice of pizza, trying and failing to keep his face impassive even as his lips twitched into a grin all on its own. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He narrowed his eyes.

_OK, Potter. Try and think like Hermione. Look at Sirius. Eyes shining, cheeks flushed, hand shaking slightly, probably couldn't wipe that smile off his face even if I hexed him__…_

There was really only one possible reason.

"What happened with you and Remus?"

Sirius almost choked on a bite of pizza. "What?"

"Oh, come on." Now completely positive he was right, Harry took a slice of pizza for himself before it completely disappeared—Sirius seemed to have suddenly gained enough of an appetite for three—and sat down on the kitchen chair opposite Sirius. "It's so obvious."

"It really must be if even you can see it."

"Hey!" He said indignantly.

His godfather merely smiled serenely and took another bite of his pizza.

"Come on, what did I interrupt?" Harry said, tilting his chair on two legs as he leaned forward.

Sirius managed to hold out for another minute before giving in. "Oh, fine. You really want to know?"

He raised his eyebrows and nodded.

"My dear godson," Sirius said, throwing his non-pizza-wielding hand outwards theatrically, "you interrupted what could have been a very, _very _good snog."

Harry let out a yelp as his chair tipped and he landed in a heap on the floor.

Sirius took another bite of his pizza and laughed.

###

"They _snogged_?"

"That's what he said."

"Honestly?"

"Yep. Well, actually he said it _could_ have been a very good snog."

"So did they snog or what?"

"Well…"

"_Boys_."

Harry and Ron, situated in two armchairs by the fireplace, turned mid-conversation and looked around at a frazzle-haired Hermione, who was in the middle of scribbling out notes on a sheet of paper. She had on her best McGonagall-scowl. "Are you going to help me or not? Visiting St Mungo's was _your_ idea, Harry. While I'm sure Remus and Sirius would highly appreciate the fact that you're discussing their relationship developments, it's been three days and nothing has happened since then."

"That we know of," Ron corrected. He turned back to Harry. "But how'd it happen?"

"He said it was after the transformation, when he was nursing Remus's wounds—"

"Okay, okay, enough!" Ron, face now slightly green, held up both hands. "I don't need the mental picture, thanks."

Hermione shuffled a stack of papers louder than necessary. "Harry talks to Sirius everyday, he'd know if something new had happened."

Looking thoughtful, Harry swung his legs up to rest on the coffee table from where he was sitting. "Not necessarily true—Sirius would probably manage to shut up about it if Remus asked him. Although I actually don't think they've seen each other since that night," he added, frowning. "I think Remus told him not to visit, it's too dangerous."

"And Tonks is going over today," Ron said.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "How'd you know?"

Ron shrugged, the tips of his ears turning pink. "I—er—heard Mum mention it to Dad."

"Oh honestly Ronald, just throw those Extendable Ears away. It's rude to eavesdrop." Hermione said, voice prickly as the stack of papers in front of her magically sorted themselves into three piles.

Ron's tone was one of indignant protest. "But that's the point of them!"

"Could we _please_," she snapped, raising her voice an octave, "get on with this plan? We're going to St Mungo's tomorrow."

Harry sighed, pulling himself off the sofa and joining Hermione on the other side of the room on the floor. She was tapping a quill against her chin, frowning. "What are you doing?"

She threw him a look. "Coming up with a plan."

"Why do we need a plan?" Ron asked, still lounging on the sofa. "Aren't we just going to ask about Malfoy?"

"Yes, but we need a strategy."

Ron rolled off the sofa and joined them, crossing his legs under him next to Hermione.

"First," said Hermione briskly, "we need to come up with a reason for people to believe of the fact that we're looking for Draco Malfoy."

"What about we're just looking for him to catch up? Because we haven't seen him in a while?" Harry suggested.

Ron burst out laughing. "Oh come on, Harry. No one in the wizarding world would believe that."

Harry scowled.

"I was thinking," Hermione interjected, as Harry opened his mouth, "that we could say we found something of his and wanted to return it. Perhaps a textbook with his name on it that we found when we last visited Hogwarts, and we've decided to return it as a kind gesture."

"But why would we? We're trying to make amends?" Ron asked.

Hermione shrugged. "Why not? The war is over, and we're trying to move on. Form new friendships with old enemies. Anyway, Malfoy isn't really technically an enemy."

Ron muttered something under his breath that Harry was glad he couldn't hear.

"I don't want to know what you said, Ronald," Hermione said peevishly. "Now, let's talk about how we're going to do this."

"I thought we would just walk up to the main desk and ask," said Harry.

"Of course not," Hermione said, switching back to a brisk tone. "Now, I've outlined a plan here"—she tapped her quill on the piece of paper directly in front of her—"and only one of us should talk to the person at the main desk, on the off chance that Malfoy really did leave some sort of address or location for people to find him—although I think that's highly unlikely. One person will be talking to the nurses, and the other will be asking around the patients."

Harry studied the piece of paper, brows furrowing. "That won't draw any attention at all."

"Well, we'd have to be discreet about it, obviously."

Ron grinned. "Fat chance of that. We're all Gryffindors here."

His smile wavered under Hermione's glare.

"I'm just joking, joking," he said hurriedly. "Of course we can be discreet. Right, Harry? I'll take the main desk. Just, er, to be safe."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Alright Harry. I think you should take the nurses."

"Why?"

"Because you're _Harry Potter_. Find some young female nurses, act relatively like a normal human being and you're sure to be able to get something."

Harry flushed. "Er—okay. Although this has never worked before."

Ron was looking at Hermione, expression slightly disgruntled. "Why won't I have the same effect?"

"Because you're taking the main desk," said Hermione firmly, in clear tones of _I-am-not-getting-into-a-nonsensical-argument-with- you-right-now_. "Now, we'll set out at ten tomorrow morning, and we should be done by lunch, so that's just in time for you, Harry."

"Just in time for what?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "For your date with Ginny. She told me yesterday you two were having lunch tomorrow." The McGonagall-scowl was starting to make its reappearance. "Did you forget?"

"No, no, no," Harry said hastily, feeling warning vibes coming from both Ron and Hermione. "Just slipped my mind for a second. Right. Lunch with Ginny." He smiled, feeling his intestines tighten, and wished that it wasn't so forced.

###

After three days, the wounds still hurt like when they were new. Remus winced as Teddy inadvertently kicked the bandage wrapped around his abdomen, and shifted his son to his other arm. "Easy, Teddy," he murmured. "Daddy's a bit broken at the moment."

He heard the buzzer ring downstairs and sighed. He had, so far, managed to avoid visitors – it hadn't been too hard considering he rarely had any. Harry, Ron and Hermione had sent numerous patronuses and messages to check up on him, but had otherwise respected his privacy. Tonks seemed to have vanished entirely, and he hadn't yet had the energy to get in contact. And Sirius he had managed to dissuade from returning on the grounds that it was too dangerous.

Sirius.

He sighed, making his way down the stairs slowly to ease the pain shooting up his right calf. Three days of thinking had gotten him absolutely nowhere. His mind refused to take a stand and he was left in a confused mental heap. There had been absolutely no doubt that _it _was still there – _it _being the thing that he and Sirius had once shared, the thing they had discovered in their sixth year at Hogwarts that had never really gone away, no matter what circumstances or events occurred. He was just a bit amazed at that, although a part of him was also completely unsurprised. His own feelings he knew had always been there, only buried. But now things were more complicated.

The buzzer sounded again. Remus took the last step and called out roughly, "Coming." He shifted Teddy slightly again before reaching the front door and pulling it open. He froze when he saw who it was.

It took him a few seconds to get his mouth working.

"Dora," he managed. "How are you?"

Tonks stood on the other side, pink hair seeming to glow under pale sunlight. She looked far better than the last time he saw her. The hesitant smile on her lips, however, faded when she saw him. "Remus! What on earth happened to you?"

He had avoided looking in the mirror, and winced as he imagined what the sight of him looked like. "Full moon," he said, without thinking.

Tonks stared at him. "But you never get so scratched up anymore because of the Wolfsbane."

There was a pregnant pause as Remus realized the implication of what he had just said. He opened his mouth, hoping for a logical explanation to reveal itself before Tonks jumped to conclusions, but it was too late.

Tonks's face was developing to a shade that matched her hair. "Don't tell me you forgot to take the Wolfsbane and transformed into a werewolf _with our nine-month-old son in the house_."

He didn't say anything. He didn't get the chance; she took one look at his face and marched into the house past him, inadvertently—or perhaps it was intentionally—nudging him hard in the side in the process. He grimaced and sucked in a breath, glancing down at his son who was now staring at him with wide eyes that seemed to say, _you're in trouble, daddy._

"Know-it-all," Remus grumbled. He closed the front door behind him and half walked, half hobbled into the kitchen where Tonks had poured herself a glass of water.

"Dora," he said, easing himself into a kitchen chair and carefully balancing Teddy on his lap. "Of course I didn't just leave Teddy alone. I had S—" He cut himself short abruptly. "—Harry. Harry was here." He juggled Teddy up and down a little too vigorously in an attempt to make his slip of tongue seem completely natural. "He took Teddy back to his place."

"Well, thank Merlin you haven't lost all your senses." Tonks said. _And there it is again_, thought Remus. _That bitter resentfulness that's clouded our home for the past year. _

Anger welled up.

"I'm doing fine, by the way," he snapped. "Thanks for asking."

Tonks inhaled, her grip around her glass tightening in the minutest motion. "Why didn't you ask me to get Teddy?"

Remus knew her well enough by now to know when she was trying to hide her feelings. She was hurt. His anger evaporated as he panicked silently, wondering what excuse he could give. He entertained the thought of saying, _Well, Dora, I actually completely forgot about it. I don't know what came over me. It was actually Sirius Black—yes, he's back from the dead, by the way—who came to remind me and he stayed with me in his illegal, unregistered Animagus form throughout my transformation to calm me down. That's why I didn't ask you._

Tonks was looking at him now. "I'm his mother, Remus. You can't just push me out of his life because we're separated."

It was the first time either of them had acknowledged it out loud to each other as fact. Taking a firm grip of his own emotions, Remus said with honest sincerity, "I'm sorry. It really didn't occur to me."

The disbelief that flashed in her eyes told him he wasn't making the situation any better.

"And Harry was already here," he added hastily. "He was—we were having tea when I remembered. So I just asked him to take Teddy with him, it seemed better to get him out of the house as soon as possible."

That got through to her. Tonks's features softened a little. She drew out a chair and sat down, reaching across to take Teddy. "Alright. I—yes. That makes sense. I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry, I should have thought of you."

There was a slightly awkward silence as the both looked at each other, then Remus stood up. "Tea?"

"Yes, please." Tonks cradled her son, dropping a kiss onto Teddy's temple. "We have to sort this out, Remus. Schedules. Who gets Teddy when and where. How this is going to work."

Remus poured hot water into two mugs with teabags. "You've been doing a lot of thinking."

"Yes."

He carried the two mugs over and set one down in front of her, trying to pinpoint his own feelings. "So… that's it, then?" He said finally.

Tonks looked at him. "What?"

"That's it?" He looked at his son, nestled peacefully now in his mother's arms. "It's definitely over?"

When Tonks didn't reply, he looked up. She was gazing at him, and he couldn't quite read the emotion in her eyes. Pity? Sadness? Understanding?

All of the above?

"It's been over for a while, Remus."

She spoke gently, but her words seemed to take all the air out of his lungs. He felt like he had been punched hard in the gut. There was a finality to her words that he had been holding off, that he had managed to avoid seeing, but that was now laid bare before him.

_It's been over for a while, Remus._

He had been trying to hold on. He had thought they could give it another go, try one more time.

_It's been over for a while, Remus._

And, silently, she seemed to be asking him: _but didn't you know?_

The answer was deep inside him, carved out with a knife. He let out a long breath. "Yes."

###

St Mungo's was buzzing. Harry stood at the side of a corridor on the floor of Potions and Plant Poisoning, attempting to blend in, and with every second that passed his mind seemed to be screaming louder: _why did I come up with this idea?_

He hated this place. He hated the whitewashed walls, the milky looking floor, the harsh silver steel of the trolleys as they were wheeled past. He hated the memories associated with the beds, the recollections of the night Voldemort had died, looking at the corpses that were pushed in and pushed out again, healers shaking their heads, clasping dying hands at bedsides.

He shook his head vigorously, trying to clear it.

A tinkling voice on his right pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Excuse me—I'm sorry if I'm being rude, but are you Harry Potter?"

Harry turned to see a petite, blond looking girl dressed in a pale blue nurse's uniform. She was gazing at him with wide eyes, he could almost see stars swirling in her irises.

_Hermione was right. Again._

"Er, yes, that's me." He tried to flash her an impressive, easy smile, not sure if he accomplished it or not. But she straightened up and smiled brightly in return.

"Oh my!" She let out a squeal and before Harry could react, she threw her arms around him. His mind immediately panicking, Harry stood stiffly before raising an arm to awkwardly hug her in return.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't meant to just throw myself on you," she pulled back, slightly breathless, eyes shining. "But I think you're _amazing_. I'm Belinda."

Harry shoved his hands into the pockets of his robes. They were clammy. "Um, that's alright," he said, wishing that Hermione had given him a potion that could make him act like the suave hero this girl was obviously expecting him to be.

"Why are you here? Are you—oh, no," Belinda's eyes widened. "Is someone you know here? Are they sick? Who is it? A relative of yours? Oh, is it that Muggle cousin that you have?"

It took Harry a moment to realize she was talking about Dudley, who he hadn't seen since he had left Privet Drive at the end of his sixth year summer holidays. He decided not to mention the fact that a Muggle couldn't possibly be in a wizarding hospital. "No," he said quickly. "I—actually, I'm here looking for a friend." He gave her another hopeful grin.

It seemed to work. She tilted her head and gave him a pretty smile. "Who is it? Maybe I can help."

Harry crossed his fingers and toes. "Draco Malfoy?"

The surprise on her face was evident. It was a known fact by now that Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter weren't the best of friends. He shuffled. "I - er, found his textbook..." He began.

It turned out he didn't need to bother. The girl seemed to simply accept the fact without explanation and had already started talking over him. "Oh, he left weeks ago," she exclaimed. "Didn't you know?"

"I—no," Harry said, faking surprise. "He left? Why?"

The girl shrugged. She leaned in and Harry bent down obligingly as she whispered in his ear: "People say it's because he's… you know."

"A Death Eater? He was never one. And he switched sides." He stopped, momentarily surprised by the defensiveness in his own voice.

The girl blinked at him. "Oh, no! Not that. The other thing." She seemed slightly confused now.

"What other thing?"

"You don't know?" This seemed to delight her. "It was one of the biggest pieces of gossip going around a few weeks ago."

Harry was becoming rapidly sick of Belinda. "Know what?" He asked, careful to keep his voice at a tone of polite inquiry while maintaining a pleasant smile. He wished he had jumped in before Ron and gotten the role at the main desk.

The girl took a deep breath. "Draco Malfoy," she announced., "likes men."

That had not been what he was expecting.

Harry stared at her, mouth agape, as what she said sank in. "Wait. Malfoy's _gay_?"

She nodded, eyes bugging. Harry involuntarily took a step back; she was beginning to look slightly deranged—he recognized too well the hungry look that women took on whenever they sensed gossip. He tried to process this new piece of information as Belinda nattered on.

"I mean, it seemed obvious. But no one really talked about it, you know? And he never said a word. Then Sarah caught him with Mike McDonald in the cupboard down the hall…"

Questions were buzzing like flies in Harry's head, but he forced himself to concentrate. He needed now, more than ever, to know where Malfoy was. If only just to rub the fact that Malfoy had been caught doing Merlin-knows-what in a cupboard with a guy who sounded like someone from a Muggle children's song.

"Do you know where he is now, Belinda?" He asked.

She squealed. "Oh, you said my name! I don't know, actually. I just know he left. Someone told me he's still in London somewhere, I don't remember who." She frowned. "Jody? No… Millicent! No, wasn't her, either…"

Harry decided he'd had enough. "You know what, Belinda? That's okay. I'll find him. I, er, just remembered I have a very important meeting to get to, so, you know…" He started sidling away. "Uh, nice meeting you!" He turned and took to his heels before he could hear anything else.

Rounding the corner, he caught sight of Hermione interrogating a frightened looking wizard lying in one of the perfectly made beds of the ward. Her hands were on her hips, and her lips were pursed. Harry recognized the determined stance. He felt slightly sorry for the patient.

Another hour of wandering the halls got him nothing but lots of giggling girls who had absolutely no idea where Malfoy had gone. Word of Harry Potter walking in the corridors on the third floor spread like wildfire and soon he found himself becoming surrounded. Deciding that he couldn't take any more, he slunk into a closet at the end of the corridor. It was the cleaning supply cupboard, and sitting on top of a bucket, Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He found himself wondering if this was the cupboard that Malfoy had gotten caught in.

He checked his watch. It was almost noon which, according to Hermione's plan, meant that it was time to regroup. He started to push the cupboard door open before he paused, then reaching for his wand he quickly disillusioned himself. He wished that he'd brought the cloak, but it would have to do.

As he ducked back through the corridor, a group of Healers came striding towards him. He swerved into the nearest ward, pressing himself against the wall to avoid another nurse. To his annoyance, the Healers all turned into the same ward, forcing him to go in deeper. He crouched beside the bedside table of a patient and waited for the Healers to pass.

Breathing in, he frowned as a familiar scent hit his nostrils. It was a stench he knew only too well. Someone in the ward was using Polyjuice Potion.

Even as one part of his mind computed the implications of this, the other side was coming up with explanations: this was, after all, the Potions Poisoning floor. There could easily be a patient in here because of a Polyjuice Potion gone wrong.

But that nagging feeling in his gut was back.

The Healers moved on. Harry took a sweeping glance of the patients in the ward: there were ten in all, and none of them looked familiar to him. Deciding that he couldn't do anything about it now without raising suspicions, he ducked back out into the corridor to the main entrance where he could find a safe place to Disapparate.

Back at Grimmauld Place, Ron and Hermione were already waiting outside his front door, bickering, when he appeared. He headed up the path towards them, snatches of their conversation reaching his ears.

"You were flirting with the nurse at the front desk, Ron, don't deny it—"

"Well, you said you wanted to try and get results! I was just trying all the possibilities—"

"There were a million other ways to get answers without _flirting_—"

"What, as in terrorizing them like you did?"

"Hey!" Harry called, just as Hermione looked as though she was ready to clobber Ron about the head. "Anything?"

Hermione turned her back on Ron, facing him. "No, nothing," she said. "You?"

He shook his head. "Just a lot of giggling girls," he grumbled. He thought he heard Ron mumble, "Ginny'll be pleased to hear that."

Hermione let out a loud sigh. "Then we're back where we've started, Harry."

Determined not to be beaten, Harry headed up the front steps of his house. "We'll come up with something, 'Mione. But I've got ten minutes before my lunch date now so I might take a shower. I smell like potions." He took a whiff of his shirt and grimaced. Pulling out his house keys, he led the way inside. "Oh, by the way," he said over his shoulder, "I have to tell you something. When I was in one of the wards, I thought I smelled—"

"Looking for me, Potter?"

Harry stopped short, hearing identical gasps of surprise behind him as Ron and Hermione came to a halt as well.

The voice was the all too familiar drawl that Harry had been secretly hoping to hear for the past week. Slowly, Harry rounded the corner and paused at the doorway of his kitchen, taking in the scene.

Sitting at his kitchen table like he owned it, holding Harry's favorite green cup in one hand and looking unbearably smug, was Draco Malfoy.

* * *

**So, part of this story has taken a turn in an unexpected direction. I hope none of you dislike Malfoy, cause he might be popping up quite a bit more...**

**Also, I have no idea if St Mungo's actually have nurses. In my memory I only recall Healers being mentioned, but I'm assuming they do. Anyway, they do here. And I apologize for the fact that I put absolutely no effort into Belinda's character, I know I completely generically Mary-Sued her, but she won't appear again.**

**This is going slowly but surely, people. Bear with me, and review! Thanks for all the support so far, you are all amazing. :)**


	16. Proving Secrets

**A/N: I feel terrible for not updating sooner. I really don't have an excuse this time because I'm actually on holiday... guess I just haven't been feeling very inspired lately. But the good news is, I've figured out what most of the rest of the story is going to look like and I've been working out the chinks in my plot, so things should be a bit better from here! Here we go with the next chapter.**

* * *

Sirius was going crazy.

It had been four days since he had last seen Remus. A week since Remus's first transformation without the Wolfsbane in years. A week since their kiss.

He hadn't heard from him at all.

Sirius Black wasn't a patient man by nature. He liked things to move quickly, and if they weren't moving quickly enough he would often feel the overwhelming need to step in and move the process along. But when he'd suggested another visit to Remus's home, Hermione had immediately produced a long list of reasons for him to not leave the house, and Harry had (though a little more reluctantly) agreed. Appealing to Remus directly was of entirely no help, because the werewolf had managed to maintain adamantly silent since shooing him and Harry out of his house four days ago and pressing on Sirius not to return because of, according to Remus, "serious security problems".

He still remembered what he'd said to that. "Don't you mean _Sirius_ security problems, Moony?" Accompanied with his old eyebrow-wriggle.

And Remus had smiled weakly, shook his head slightly before closing the front door.

_Lame, Black. What happened to all your old charm?_

Remus was avoiding him. He was sure of it. It wasn't a particularly hard conclusion to come to, nor was a particularly hard thing for Remus to achieve since after all, Sirius was essentially under the equivalent of a house arrest. It felt very much like when he'd first escaped from Azkaban, only now his time frame was far shorter, and his goal much clearer.

When he'd first returned, he'd had visions of their reunion. Of passionate kisses and feeling Remus's skin against his, their old fire returning anew; of reminiscing about school days past and Marauder pranks; of spending time together with Harry, the three of them re-settling their lives in Grimmauld Place, for however long possible.

It hadn't quite worked out the way he'd hoped.

On top of Remus was the secret that he'd kept since his return, lingering like an irremovable stain at the back of his mind. He had honestly expected Harry, or at least Hermione, to have interrogated him about the Veil and coming back from death by now. He knew he couldn't keep it from them forever. But beyond the mildly curious questions from his first night, the subject hadn't been raised again. He wasn't sure why this was the case, but he certainly didn't want to bring it up himself—if only to buy more time.

But he'd also had a feeling that the three of them were investigating on their own. He wasn't blind. He'd seen books and notes that vanished as soon as he walked into a room, and had noted an increase in their private discussions that excluded him, held in low voices. They were keeping something from him as much as he was.

And while the secrets and the sneaking around would have thrilled him in his Marauder days, he didn't like it. Keeping something so important from Harry wasn't the right thing to do, but he desperately wanted to fix things with Remus before everything came spilling out. So he kept quiet.

He didn't know how long it would last. But he couldn't rely on time being in his favour forever. He needed to act.

Sirius Black wasn't a patient man by nature.

He knew Harry had activated the Apparition wards again after the _Prophet _had reported some sort of Death Eater support rally that had occurred in Hogsmeade. Carefully, keeping quiet so he could still retreat back into his room if necessary, he opened his bedroom door and peered out into the hallway. It was empty.

He stepped out and closed the door behind him, doing a wandless locking charm, and headed down the hall towards the back stairs. The beauty about living in the house that he had grown up in was that he knew all the shortcuts and the most secret passageways. Entering the study room two doors down, he cut through it to the connecting door on the other side and came into a spare bedroom. This room exited right next to the back stairway.

The moment he was outside and could feel the grass under his feet, he transformed. A black dog trotted through the back garden of Grimmauld Place, squeezed through a gap in the back fence, and vanished with a muted _pop_.

###

There were several situations in life that Harry believed a person could never, no matter how vigilant, ever be prepared for. The first of these was the moment when your girlfriend says "I love you" for the first time (it had happened last Christmas and had made a mouthful of butterbeer go down the wrong way—he was still hyper-aware of the fact that he had yet to say it back). Another was having your dead godfather show up on your doorstep. After that, it would seem like nothing could possibly top it—but somehow, as always, Draco Malfoy managed to find a whole new way to exceed Harry's expectations, because here was his old Slytherin school enemy sitting at his kitchen table, drinking his coffee.

Or someone who appeared to be Draco Malfoy. There was a chance it could be somebody else.

Malfoy—apparently—cleared his throat. He raised the cup he was holding disdainfully, cocking one eyebrow. "Potter," he said, his tone as snobbish as Harry could remember it, "this coffee is revolting."

Harry suddenly saw the tip of a wand emerge beside him, and he turned to see Ron brandishing his, aiming it straight at Malfoy. The redhead practically growled out the words, "What did Moody turn you into in our fourth year at Hogwarts?"

He rarely ever saw Malfoy blush, but he could have sworn he saw two pink tinges appear on the man's pale cheeks. Malfoy seemed to be battling internally to get the syllables out, and when they finally came they were accompanied with a deathly glower aimed in Ron's direction. "A ferret, Weasley."

For a moment, Ron remained still. Then he tucked his wand away, chuckling loudly. "Never gets old, that," he remarked, purposefully bumping Malfoy in the process as he stepped by him to get a cup of coffee for himself.

Harry had so many questions that he didn't know where to begin. He opened his mouth, and what came out of it was: "Are you wearing _jeans_?"

Malfoy was, indeed, wearing a pair of faded denim jeans that Harry couldn't help but notice fitted him perfectly. It seemed just the sort of irritating unbalance in the world that Draco Malfoy could make jeans look expensive and high class. Harry was unaware of the odd look that Ron cast in his direction, however he did catch the muffled snigger coming from Hermione behind him. He could feel his own cheeks turning pink and hastily headed for the coffee machine so he could hide his face.

"Yes, Potter, I am. I don't find the need to wear suits all the time now that I'm no longer under my father's thumb." Malfoy sounded amused.

The mention of Lucius Malfoy reminded Harry of why they had been desperately searching for Malfoy in the first place. He latched onto this new topic with relief, and ignored the fact that his hand was trembling slightly as he poured himself coffee.

"How did you know we were looking for you?"

Malfoy tilted his head backwards slightly to look at him. "I charmed my front doorknob at Spinner's End, Potter. When you touched it a week ago I was alerted to the fact that Harry Potter had been at my house, apparently looking for me."

Behind him, Harry heard Hermione mutter under her breath, "Told you there were traps, Harry."

He decided to ignore her. "Who on earth would charm their front doorknob?" He said instead, scowling.

"Those who have concerns that there may be wizards after them." Malfoy picked at a frayed thread on his jeans.

Before Harry could ask the obvious question—_why exactly do you have concerns that there are wizards after you?_—Hermione interrupted with a question of her own. "What charm did you use? Even I don't know a spell that could do that." She sounded impressed despite her best efforts to appear otherwise.

_Trust Hermione to ask about the technicalities. _Harry saw Ron roll his eyes.

Malfoy studied her for a moment, then inclined his head in acknowledgment. "Well spotted, Granger. It wouldn't be in one of your usual Charms textbooks. It's a Dark spell. My father had given me some books on Dark Magic when I was in my sixth year."

The atmosphere in the room dropped several degrees.

Sensing the shift, Malfoy took a sip of his coffee, posture stiff. "Look," he said, when the silence had dragged on for a good thirty seconds, "This is my past. This is what I know. It's a useful spell, and I won't apologize for using it." He looked at them defiantly.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry caught Ron opening his mouth, an equally defiant look on his face. He jumped in hurriedly. "We weren't asking you to," he said, shooting Ron a pointed look. "Why are there wizards after you?"

Malfoy studied the contents of his cup before looking up at Harry. "Why were _you_ after me?"

Harry hesitated. He exchanged glances with Ron and Hermione, then said slowly, "Well, actually, we—"

Ron let out a long cough. "Excuse me. Harry, could I talk to you?"

Before he could reply, Harry felt himself being shoved out the kitchen door with both Ron and Hermione in tow, leaving Malfoy sitting in the kitchen with the coffee, looking slightly bemused.

Once all three of them were in the living room, Ron rounded on Harry. "I don't trust him, mate."

"He's our best chance—"

"There's always another way. We'll find some other kind of proof—"

"How? Unless you want to go knocking on the door of Malfoy Manor, I'm all out of ideas—"

"—this guy is our enemy—"

"—_used_ to be our enemy—"

"—a Slytherin—"

"—_I trust him_!"

There was a stunned silence. It took a moment for Harry to realize that he had shouted the last sentence at the top of his lungs.

Hermione was chewing on her bottom lip, looking anxious. She glanced at Ron, then at Harry, then back at Ron again. "Harry has a point, Ron. At the moment, Malfoy's our best hope to get proof and resolve this once and for all."

Harry could feel his cheeks burning and cursed himself, wondering what in Godric's name had made him jump to Malfoy's defence so vigorously. He knew that both Ron and Hermione were staring at him and he pointedly examined the fibers on the carpet.

After a moment, Ron let out a half exasperated, half resigned huff. "Oh, all right," he said, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. "I guess I should give the ferret a chance."

The triumph was substantially tainted by his embarrassment.

They filed back into the kitchen to a waiting Malfoy, who raised an eyebrow. "Finished discussing whether or not I'm trustworthy enough?"

Harry felt himself turning red again, but luckily Hermione jumped in. "You can understand us being cautious, Malfoy, can't you?" She said, and without waiting for a response barreled on with a brisk explanation: "All right, basically this is what it boils down to—we think that somehow, someone is bringing Death Eaters back from the dead and we're trying to find proof. We thought you might know something about it." She paused. When there was no reply, she said, a little more forcefully, "Well, do you?"

Harry swallowed, scanning Malfoy's face. Hermione seemed to have decided on an aggressive all-or-nothing approach. He hoped fervently that he hadn't done the wrong thing in sticking up for Malfoy.

Malfoy's own expression was impassive, and his eyes hadn't left Hermione's face. It felt like years before he spoke. When he did, it was to pose a question of his own: "Is this because Sirius Black is back?"

Ron spluttered. Harry could feel himself turning pale. "How did you—" He began, but Hermione cut across him.

"Yes," she said, eyes narrowed. "That's the reason. How do you know that?"

Looked extremely self satisfied, Malfoy leaned back on the back two legs of his chair. "So my eyes didn't deceive me, after all," he said. "It _was _him with you that night, Potter."

Harry felt his skin prickling. "What night?" He snapped, more harshly than he intended.

Malfoy drained the remains of his coffee, wrinkling his nose with distaste. "About a week ago, Potter. In front of the werewolf's house. I saw you."

Harry felt like he was falling into a black pit. He stared at Malfoy. It had never occurred to him that he would have been watched for those two minutes outside Remus's home, when he and Sirius had arrived on the night of the transformation. He had been too preoccupied then to even think about that. The street was usually deserted; it was why Remus had chosen the location in the first place.

Behind him, he heard Ron's voice, incredulous. "Are you _stalking_ him?"

Malfoy threw him a bored look. "I have far better things to do with my time, Weasley. But since the three of you had kindly decided to pay me a visit at my old home earlier that day, naturally I had to know what you were up to."

Harry found his voice again. "But… how the hell did you find me?" He demanded.

Malfoy fiddled with his wand on the table. "I think I'll keep that to myself for now, Potter," he said slowly. "Can't reveal too many secrets, can I?"

"I _knew_ we couldn't trust him," Ron snarled, and before Harry knew it he'd thrown a wand up in front of Malfoy's face.

The man didn't even react an inch. "If you want information, Weasley, I'd strongly suggest _not_ using magic or violence," he said smoothly.

Ron turned beet red, opened his mouth, then shut it again as Hermione gave him a sharp nudge. She lowered his wand rather forcefully with her own hand. "No threats, no magic," she said. "If you'll just tell us what you know, Malfoy."

"Still the smart one then, Granger," Malfoy crossed his legs, then draped an arm over the chair next to his. Harry had the distinct feeling that the man was enjoying this a little too much. "I think you're right," he said finally.

The black pit became bottomless. Harry gripped Hermione's elbow. "What do you mean, you _think_?" He said, a little wildly.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow at him. "There are plenty of signs that the Death Eaters appear to be returning, Potter, if you look closely enough," he said. "I'm sure you—or at least Granger—has noticed what they are, otherwise you wouldn't have come to this conclusion. Unfortunately, I am no longer part of Voldemort's old inner circle. I don't know with any more certainty than you do."

"You think we're going to believe that?" Ron snapped. His wand arm twitched. "You're Lucius Malfoy's son, and his house that was on sale on the market isn't on sale anymore."

"Thanks for the lesson in my family members, Weasley, but if my father has returned he hasn't contacted me." Malfoy's voice had taken on a shade of iciness. "The house is no longer under my control or my name. I sold it."

Harry's mind was racing to keep up with all the information. "But it was never sold," he said, confused.

"Correction, Potter, it _was_ sold. It was sold very quickly and very quietly, so very little people noticed. It was about a month after I put it up for sale, but the new owner returned it to the market just two weeks later, so it seemed like it had never been gone. When it mysteriously went off the market some months ago that wasn't me, that was the new owner."

Ron was still glowering. "So who's the owner now?"

Malfoy's face went blank. "That's none of your business."

Ron exploded. "You little bloody ferret, we're trying to prevent a _third_ war here and you just—"

"_Ron_," Hermione hissed. "Calm down." She eyed Malfoy, her head tilted to one side. Harry recognized the posture—Hermione was wearing her I-just-figured-out-something-about-you look. "I don't think it matters who he sold it to," she said slowly.

Malfoy's head shot up in surprise, along with Harry's.

Hermione seemed unperturbed. "I don't particularly think Malfoy would have sold his house to someone with a Death Eater connection. So it means when the house was taken off, it was done through coercion. And in that case it doesn't really matter who the victim is."

"Hang on," Ron interrupted. "You supposedly went missing just as the house disappeared from the market. You expect us to believe that's just coincidence?"

Malfoy sighed heavily. "It was a combination of things, Weasley, that made me quit the hospital. Believe it or not, coincidental timing did play a part in it."

In his mind, Harry heard Belinda's voice, low and secretive, dramatically whispering: "_Draco Malfoy__…__ likes men_._"_

He realized that he was suddenly very alert.

Malfoy had continued, apparently not noticing Harry's private revelations. "But I did notice the disappearance of the house and that told me something was going to happen – or had happened. I thought I should take precautions." He fixed Ron with a stare.

"Such as moving out from your home and charming the doorknob to see who comes looking for you," Hermione said.

Turning back to Hermione, Malfoy nodded. "Actually, Potter, you are the only one who's touched it so far. If Death Eaters had gone, they didn't go near enough to the front door."

Harry noted that he didn't say, _if my father had come_. A twinge of emotion stirred inside him and he realized, with some surprise, that he was feeling empathy for Draco Malfoy. He knew what it was like not to have a father.

He wondered when exactly he had become so attuned to reading between the lines of Draco Malfoy.

Hermione's sharp gasp and the iron-tight grip on his arm startled him, shaking him out of his thoughts. "Harry! Look!" She shifted her grip to his shoulders and turned him forcefully in the direction of the windows on the opposite side of the kitchen.

The windows on that side faced the back of the house, away from the main street. As Harry turned, he managed to catch sight of the wagging tail of a black dog slip through the back gates of the house, and then Disapparate.

It didn't take a genius to work out what he had just seen. Fear swept through him.

He swore. "What the hell is he doing?"

"He must be going to see Remus," Hermione said, anxiety and annoyance fighting for dominance over her features. Anxiety won. "Harry, we have to get him back. There are really Death Eaters out there, we have to—"

"Malfoy didn't actually _give_ us any proof," Harry said, twisting back around to face Hermione. He could feel every fiber of his body pulsing with nerves. "He just said _his_ opinion was the same as yours. That's not solid evidence by any degree."

Hermione's brown eyes were shaded with impatience. "_Harry_. Please. Try and look at this objectively for just _one_ moment—"

"I can't." He knew he was yelling, but the surge had started and couldn't be stopped. "Hermione, he's my godfather. He's the closest I'll ever get to a father, don't you get it? I can't just let him go again if I know I have a choice." He was sounding close to hysterical now and he knew it. "You're asking me to let him die. _Again_." He stopped, catching his breath.

Hermione had fallen back, and was now regarding him, her gaze steady. "I'm not asking you to let him die, Harry," she said quietly. "I'm just asking you to get him back here so we can find out what really happened. From Sirius."

"Oh." Now feeling slightly foolish, Harry retreated. "Right. OK. I'll send Remus a patronus." He glanced around the kitchen and saw Malfoy staring at him intently. That was about the fourth time he'd felt embarrassed in front fo Draco Malfoy today. "Sorry. I get worked up sometimes." He mumbled.

Malfoy contemplated him for a moment. "You really care about Sirius Black, don't you?"

Surprised by the question, Harry nodded.

He expected Malfoy to say something else, anything, about his outburst, but instead the man simply nodded in return, picked up the green coffee mug and placed it in the sink.

_Trust Draco Malfoy to have good manners, even in these circumstances._

"Unfortunately, I have an appointment I have to keep," Malfoy said, sounding suddenly stiff and formal. "If that's all you wanted to ask me about, I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help. As I said, I'm not connected with the Death Eaters or that circle any longer." He hesitated. Harry could almost see him thinking and rethinking what he wanted to say next. "If—" He began, then stopped. He glanced at Harry, and then started again: "If you do find confirmation, and you need help, I'll be glad to give assistance." He turned to leave.

"Wait!" Harry blurted. Malfoy paused and half turned, so that Harry saw his profile. He wracked his brain for something to say. "Er, is there an easy way we could contact you? You know. For assistance." He attempted to grin.

Draco Malfoy didn't turn for a long moment. Then finally, he reached into his pocket and tossed Harry something over his shoulder. Harry lunged forward, catching it by the very tips of his fingers.

"Still the Seeker as always, Potter," he heard Malfoy comment, but he was too busy studying what was in his hand. Malfoy had tossed him a Galleon. A Galleon that looked incredibly familiar.

"Your legacy lives on with your fake Galleons, Granger," Malfoy said, sounding just slightly uncomfortable. "I've found it useful in the past and saw no reason not to continue using it."

In a rare show of tact, none of the Gryffindors mentioned what Malfoy had used the Protean charmed Galleons for in the past.

"You know how it works, Potter," Malfoy said, meeting Harry's eyes. "I'll come if I'm needed."

He was gone out the kitchen before Harry could say anything else. Harry heard the front door open and shut.

There was a sense of anticlimax in the kitchen as Harry was left with Ron and Hermione, staring at the space where Malfoy had been sitting. Harry couldn't quite tame the whirl of emotions in his chest to actually settle on what he was feeling at the moment.

Finally, Ron said, "The git's still as posh as ever."

"Ronald, he's trying to help," Hermione said, but it was only half-hearted. She turned to Harry instead. "Shouldn't you send the patronus?"

"Right." Pushing aside all thoughts of Draco Malfoy with extreme effort, Harry drew his wand. "_Expecto Patronum,_" he said, watching the silver stag burst from the tip of his wand. "Tell Remus that he has to tell Sirius to come home, we have an urgent matter to discuss with him," he told the stag, and sent his Patronus cantering out the kitchen window, down the path where he had just seen Sirius disappear.

The three of them sat around the kitchen table to wait. They had been sitting there for a good twenty minutes before out of the thin air, a wolf padded towards him, strong and lean and muscular. It sniffed around Harry for a few seconds before it sat down in front of him, opened its mouth and Remus's voice came pouring out: "Harry, Sirius isn't here. He hasn't been here for four days. What's going on?"

The atmosphere in the kitchen shifted like lightning. Harry turned to Hermione, eyes wide. "You said—"

"I just assumed!" She said, looking panicked. "It just—he _had _to have—where else would he have to go?"

It was a good question. Harry turned back to the patronus, but it had already vanished. He was left staring out the kitchen window.

The bad feeling in his gut was returning.

* * *

**Any guesses as to where Sirius has gotten to? We have, as an estimate, probably about 4-6 chapters left of this story, so please review! It will give me fuel to go on.**

**And if anyone's seen my muse, please tell it to come back to me.**


	17. Disappearing Acts

**A/N: First off - 100+ reviews! Wow. Thank you everyone so much for supporting this story, you are all simply amazing human beings. Second thing, this chapter is shorter than my usual ones because I thought you'd rather I update sooner rather than later, and this seemed like a good place to end this particular part of the story. That said, don't be surprised if the next chapter takes a while, uni has started again and my professors seem insistent on piling on even more work than before. Ugh. Don't worry, though, I will never abandon this story.**

* * *

The day was turning out worse than Remus had predicted. It had firstly been the date that Tonks had set for them to properly 'go over the details', as she said, of their separation. She had arranged to come for lunch at noon (ironic, he'd thought, since she'd so often missed meals when they were together anyway) and had, surprisingly, showed up on time.

They'd gone over the details. Teddy would spend one week with Tonks, and then one week with Remus. Tonks already had Teddy this week, so that meant Remus would have his son the next. Since Teddy was still too young to attend any sort of school, they'd decided to put off the decision on what to do about that until later.

Tonks would also get Teddy at every full moon night, regardless of whose week it was.

It was the fairest arrangement they could come up with. Remus hated pitching his son back and forth like a volleyball, but he and Tonks couldn't agree on any other way. And in the end, the meeting had been mostly amiable. Tonks had even laughed a little, squeezed his hand briefly – not an _I-love-you_ squeeze, but a _we're-fine_ squeeze. She had let go quickly, but he'd gotten the message.

She had just been about to leave. If she'd left five minutes earlier, even, things might have been different. But she didn't. And just as she stood up, thanking Remus for lunch (he'd made spaghetti, again), out of nowhere came Harry's Patronus, galloping towards him, tossing its antlers. He was reminded again, briefly, just how similar to James' Animagus form it was, when it opened its mouth and Harry's voice, which sounded slightly anxious and exasperated at the same time, came blaring through:

"Remus, Sirius needs to come back to Grimmauld Place. We have an urgent matter to discuss with him."

Message delivered, the Patronus turned and trotted away into thin air, oblivious to the sudden silence that had descended over the room.

The kitchen seemed to have been suspended in time for a moment. Panic raced through him as several realizations hit him all at once: 1) that Harry's message about Sirius had been delivered directly in front of Tonks, 2) he was going to have to tell Tonks about Sirius, 3) Harry was under the impression that Sirius was at Remus's house, and 4) Sirius was most definitely not here.

The silence stretched on. Unable to look up, afraid of what he might see on Tonks's face, Remus turned his back on her and reached for the coffee pot, gripping the handle as he tried to think.

"Remus?" he heard her ask tentatively. "Did… did Harry say _Sirius_?"

He clenched the coffee pot harder. "Er, did he?"

_Good one, Lupin._

He felt her edging nearer. "I'm pretty sure he did."

There was a _crack_; Remus looked down in astonishment to see the previously complete handle of the coffee pot broken neatly in half.

Right then.

Taking in a deep breath, he dropped the broken pieces onto the counter, brushed his hands, and turned around to face Tonks. "Okay," he said. "Okay. Just listen, Dora, and please don't jump to conclusions. Yes, Harry did say Sirius. He's… back from the Veil."

Tonks blinked at him for a moment, eyebrows furrowed. Then she flashed him a smile that surprised him with its warmth. "But that's great! So he's alive again?"

"Well, yes," Remus said slowly.

"But how is that possible?"

It dawned on him then that he had never really interrogated Sirius on the subject, and that he couldn't actually properly answer her question. _An idiot, Lupin, that's what you are. A big bloody fool. _"I… I'm not sure."

Now Tonks was frowning. "What? How can you not be sure? You mean you didn't bring him back?"

Wordlessly, Remus shook his head.

Tonks stared. "That's not right," she said sharply. "There's something wrong here. For people to come back from the Veil they need to use Dark magic."

He stared at the tiled floor. "I know."

"You—" Tonks broke off, took a breath, and started again. "You should have told me, Remus. Or at least an Auror. We should have been alerted, this could be the work of another Dark Lord—"

"That's not possible," he said, heart pounding. "And Harry's an Auror," he added, though he knew that argument held about as much water as a desert.

"Harry's an Auror in _training_, and surely you can see that he's not impersonal to this situation!" She had slipped completely into her Auror mask, and was gathering her things briskly. "I have to go and tell Kingsley. The Ministry should know. We have to get Sirius and talk to him about this."

It took a full thirty seconds for the implications of her words to sink in. _Tell Kingsley__…__ the Ministry__…__ get Sirius__…_

He lurched himself after her, catching up to her just as she reached his front door. "Dora, wait!" He said, wildly grabbing her arm. "Just wait. Look. Please don't tell anyone else just yet, all right? I'm sure Harry, Ron and Hermione are looking into this already. I know for a fact that Harry's told Minerva, which in all likelihood means Dumbledore also knows, and that's the best help we could hope for, I mean if there's anyone who could—" He stopped, realizing that he had started rambling.

Tonks regarded him. She glanced down at his hand on her arm, then back up to meet his eyes. "What did you mean before?" She asked.

Caught off guard, Remus blinked. "Huh?"

"When you said '_don't jump to conclusions_'. What did you mean?"

Remus thought back to what he had said and silently cursed himself.

"I just—I just meant…" he said weakly, knowing he had absolutely no idea how to finish the sentence.

Tonks' gaze was steady. "You meant, don't jump to the conclusion that he is the reason for our marriage failing, didn't you?"

Remus didn't answer.

"How long as he been back?"

Silently, Remus cursed Harry for his untimely Patronus.

"Remus?"

"About three months now," he said, resigned.

Tonks watched him for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice was surprisingly gentle. "I'm not going to assume anything, Remus," she said. "But maybe you should."

Before he could ask her what _that _meant, she had already continued, reverting back to a business-like manner. "I won't say anything yet, alright? I'll wait until you find him, at least." Carefully, she worked to prise his fingers from her arm.

"Until I…?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Unless you've actually hidden him in one of your rooms while we've been talking in the kitchen, I think Harry's message means that he's missing. Am I wrong?"

"Fuck," he said out loud.

Tonks turned back towards the front door. "Good luck, Remus. If you need help…" She hesitated for only a small fraction of a second, "Just ask." Giving him a tiny smile, she walked out of his house and he watched her Disapparate.

He hurried back inside for his wand and to send a message back to Harry. Then, he wandered around his kitchen for a while, absentmindedly sweeping the broken coffee pot into the trash. When no response came from Harry after half an hour of pacing, he decided that help was needed. He threw on his coat, for once grateful that Teddy wasn't currently under his custody, and without a second thought turned rapidly on the spot.

###

Sirius had, in fact, gone to Remus's. At first.

He'd wanted to use the advantage of surprise to corner the werewolf and force him into a proper talk. Perhaps, he admitted to himself, he'd also wanted to do a little more than talking.

But when he'd gotten there, just as he'd raised his hand to knock, he caught sight of movement through one of the windows – a blur of pink hair and white skirt. Marauder instinct kicked in and before he could stop himself he found himself crouching below the frame and peering inside.

It was Tonks, chatting with Remus in the kitchen. He watched as she smiled, laid a hand gently on Remus's. Saw Remus flash a smile in return.

He'd walked away, feeling familiar pricks of jealousy stabbing at him. But it was more than jealousy: seeing them together for the first time had made him realize that Remus had an entire life that did not include him. It rammed home the fact that neither of them were in Hogwarts anymore, and that they were no longer fighting a war – they were both grown-ups leading everyday, regular lives. Remus had a wife and a son. A family. A stage that he and Remus had never gotten to.

_He said they'd separated._

Reminding himself that the conversation could be completely innocent, Sirius stopped in his tracks and half turned.

There was a flash and a muted _pop_, then suddenly two black robed figures were standing in front of him. Sirius had no trouble recognizing either of them, even though they were both supposed to be dead. But then, so was he.

"Pettigrew," he snarled. He looked at the other, and an even stronger burst of hatred flared up. "_You_."

"Finally got you, Black," said Fenrir Greyback, looking completely nonplussed at the loathing that was emitting from Sirius's entire body. He grinned, baring two rows of yellow teeth. "Your bloody godson has set up some rather excellent protection charms at your old place, know that?"

"As he clearly should," Sirius snapped. His fingers reached for his wand, before he remembered that he was unarmed.

The other man was squat and pudgy, but his features were still distinctly rat-like. "You n-need to come with us, Sirius," Pettigrew stuttered.

Sirius sneered. "You're going to have to make me, _Wormtail_."

He had the satisfaction of watching the other man cower away from him. _At least I can still intimidate that traitor of a rat._

Greyback, however, had no such qualms of any kind. The werewolf stepped right in front of Sirius and grabbed his arm in a forceful grip, bearing down on him with gleaming yellow eyes. "That would be my pleasure, Black," he said, and Sirius felt the uncomfortable sensation of Side-Along Apparition as the neighborhood around him blurred and vanished.

Hidden in the shadows, a lean man with pale blond hair stepped forward, his usual haughty disposition creased with thought. After a moment, Draco Malfoy too Disapparated.

###

"But where the hell could he have gone?!" Harry exploded for what seemed like the fiftieth time, pacing around the circumference of the kitchen and staring in exasperation at the occupants in the room.

Ron had buried his face in his arms so that only his red hair was showing. Under the glow of the setting sun, it almost seemed to be on fire. Beside him, Hermione was frowning, staring at the table.

Sirius had been officially missing for the entire afternoon.

They'd checked everywhere they could think of. Hogwarts. Godric's Hollow. Hermione had even Apparated into the Department of Mysteries to the Veil, just to make sure. There was no sign of his godfather.

Agitated, he kicked at a kitchen chair and it toppled.

"And where the hell is Remus?" He added. He had, in a futile attempt, gone around to Remus's in case his old professor had decided to secret some hours away with Sirius alone, but Sirius definitely had not been there. Neither, for that matter, had Remus.

Hermione looked anxious. "You don't think he's gone and done something stupid, do you?"

"He's our old DADA teacher," Ron said, lifting his head from his arms. "He wouldn't."

"But we're talking about _Sirius_." Hermione exchanged a glance with Harry.

Harry didn't reply. The impending feeling that something was very, very wrong had only grown since the afternoon. Something was definitely not right.

He suddenly realized Hermione was still talking.

"…we might have to call in reinforcements if he doesn't show up by tonight."

_Reinforcements_. Harry frowned. "We can't contact the DA about this, they'll think we're nuts. And besides, we've lost touch with—"

"Not Dumbledore's Army, Harry," Hermione said impatiently. "We're not at Hogwarts anymore. Although who I'm referring to _is_ actually still at Hogwarts—"

His mind clicked. "McGonagall!" He almost shouted. He didn't ever remember feeling such relief in saying his old professor's name before. "I forgot we told her. This is brilliant, she'll know how to find him."

He pulled on his jacket hurriedly, heading towards the front door. He could hear Ron and Hermione scrambling to catch up. Yanking the front door open, he almost tripped over a person who had been sitting on the front porch, leaning against the door he had just pulled back. His heart sank a little when he realized who it was.

"Ginny?" He said, and then remembered.

_Oh bollocks. Our date._

Ginny stood up, brushing off her jeans, and faced him with her arms crossed, a determined look on her face. He knew that expression, and his heart sank even further down to his toes.

"Look," he said, knowing it was far too late but not knowing what else to do, "I'm really sorry about missing our lunch, something came—"

"Three hours," she interrupted. "I sat in that café waiting for _three hours_, Harry. Everyone in there knew I'd been stood up. What? What could _possibly _have come up that made you completely forget about our date?"

_Damn, damn, damn._

She pinned him with a steely glare. "You're not going to get away with some vague explanation here, Harry. I want to know what came up. _Exactly_."

He had to get to Hogwarts, the sooner the better. Sirius could be in danger. He looked back at Ron and Hermione desperately.

"It's a bit of a long story—"

"I have time," she said, voice like steel. "What came up?"

His brain was working into overdrive but coming up blank. It was Ron who finally answered. "Not what, Gin. _Who_."

Now she looked confused. "Who came?"

Harry twisted around to stare at Ron, widening his eyes desperately to try and convey his message. _He couldn't possibly be thinking about—_

"Malfoy," Ron said, giving the name an appropriate sneer. "As in Draco Malfoy. He decided to pay Harry a visit. Found out we had some old textbook of his that we never returned and threw a hissy fit about it. The git's always been a bit uptight about his stuff."

Harry could almost _feel_ the surprise radiating off from Hermione. Silently, he thanked Merlin for having given him Ron Weasley as his best friend.

Ginny was staring at her brother in disbelief. "Draco _Malfoy_ came here?"

"Yep," said Ron, bobbing his head up and down. "Bloody ferret just can't leave us alone, even after the war."

There was a momentary pause. Feeling incredibly jittery, Harry had the overwhelming urge to stamp his feet in frustration. Instead, he held back for a minute, then said tentatively, "I'm really sorry about missing our date, Gin."

She studied him, looking slightly thoughtful, which confused him a little.

He cleared his throat. "But, er, see, I'm in a little bit of a hurry…" He braced himself for a fresh wave of furious ranting.

Instead, Ginny stepped aside wordlessly and gestured for him to continue walking. He looked at her, surprise, then back at Ron, who shrugged and mouthed '_women_'.

Seizing the opportunity, Harry shot his girlfriend a grin, gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and hurried past her. He heard Ron and Hermione following close behind.

Once out on the pavement, he cast a quick glance around, then gave a nod to his best friends. Together, with a familiar _pop_, they disappeared.

* * *

**I can't seem to stop myself with the cliffhangers. Please don't hate me. I'm trying to build up to the climax here.**

**People! I have such exciting things coming up, regarding Remus & Sirius and in terms of actual plot (though I have a feeling people care more about the former than the latter, which I understand completely). So please review, and I'll update as soon as I can!**


End file.
